i^ 


THE 
POLITICIAN 


BY 

ANTONIO  FOGAZZARO 


Translation  by 
G.  MANTELLINI 


(*F  THE 


UNiVERSI 

or 


BOSTON 
LUCE  AND  COMPANY 

MCMVIII 


"7 


yti^tStHS^ 


Copyright,  1908 

By 

LUCE   AND   COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     WiKD,   Rain,   and   Gossip i 

II.     A    Serious    Matter 17 

III.  The  Ideas  of  Daniele  Cortis 40 

IV.  Amongst    Roses 55 

V.     For   Him  !     For   Him  ! 70 

VI.    The   Signora  Fiamma 103 

VII.    Ready!      .     .     . 121 

VIII.     In   the    Battlefield .   135 

IX.     Voices  jn  the  Dark 162 

X.     The  Bajron's  Affair 180 

XL     From   the  Villa  to  Rome 202 

XII.     Difficult    Walking 234 

XIII.  Vertigo" 250 

XIV.  They  Were  Worthy  of  This  ' 262 

XV.     The   Signora's   Secret 278 

XVI.     In  the  Chamber  of  Deputies 297 

XVII.     An    Intervention 314 

XVIII.     Nocturnal    Struggles      .     .* 339 

XIX.    "Ought  I  to  Go?" .364 

XX.    A  Hidden  Drama 376 

XXI.  The  Poem  of  Shadow  and  of  Life  ....  415 

XXII.  As  THE  Stars  and  the  Palm-Trees  ....  439 

XXIII.     In  Summer  and  in  Winter 463 


I907?G 


1 


THE    POLITICIAN 

CHAPTER  I 

WIND,    RAIN    AND    GOSSIP 

The  balls  knocked  together  sharply  twice  in  suc- 
cession. 

"Tac!  tac!"  exclaimed  Count  Perlotti,  watch- 
ing them  attentively,  with  the  chalk  in  his  right 
hand,  and  his  cue  on  the  left. 

"  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  the  senator,  "  What  sort 
of  cues  have  you,  Countess  Tarquinia?  There  is 
no  top  on  this  one.     It  is  impossible  to  play. 

"  There  you  are  again !  "  said  the  Countess,  in  a 
low  voice,  to  the  group  of  ladies  who  surrounded 
her.  "  My  dear  son-in-law,"  she  added  stretching 
her  arms,  ''  I  have  written  over  and  over  again  for 
some  to  be  sent  to  me !  " 

He  turned  to  Countess  Perlotti,  who  was  quietly 
smiling  while  she  watched  the  weather  through  the 
glass  door. 

"  That's  well,"  he  grumbled.  "  It  is  the  twen- 
tieth time  I  am  told  that.  Does  she  want  me  to 
make  the  cues  myself?  " 

"  What  weather !  "  answered  the  lady  prudently.' 
"  It  is  frightful." 

I 


2  THE  POLITICIAN 

In  front  of  the  glass  door  the  great  dead  cypress, 
enveloped  to  its  top  in  wistaria,  raised  the  bright 
green  of  its  burden  to  the  sombre  sky ;  an  occa- 
'sional  drop  of  rain  splashed  on  the  gravel. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  signora,  it  is  frightful,  enough  to 
frighten   anybody." 

These  remarks  came  as  a  chorus  from,  the  four 
or  five  men  and  the  ladies,  who,  with  all  their  finery, 
seemed  very  stiff  and  very  conscious  of  the  great 
honor  of  being  received  in  the  house  of  the  Countess 
Tarquinia  Carre, 

"  Six  to  me !  "  shouted  the  senator. 

"How  many?"  inquired  an  invisible  person. 

"  Six,  six,  six!     Are  you  deaf?  " 
•    "  No,  but  those  priests!     Just  listen  to  them." 

"  Yes,  indeed  they  must  be  having  an  orgy. 
Do  send  and  keep  them  quiet,  Countess  Tarquinia." 

The  priests  were  playing  cards  in  the  music 
room  adjoining,  and  were  screaming  and  shouting. 

"  My  dear  Grigioli,"  said  the  countess  to  a  young 
man  who  was  seated  on  a  sofa,  talking  to  the 
Baroness  Elena  Carre  di  Santa  Giulia,  "  be  so  good 
as  to  ask  those  reverend  priests  pleasantly,  not  to 
make  such  a  noise." 

The  latter  bowed. 

"  By-the-by,  I  rely  upon  you !  " 

"  That  blessed  Sicily,"  the  countess  said  softly 
to  him. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  countess?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  ?     Cortis !  " 

"  Everything  looks  well,  countess.     Fifty  votes 


THE  POLITICIAN  '        3 

for  certain,  here.  I  was  just  saying  so  to  Baroness 
Elena." 

"  My  dear  friend,  please  do  not  talk  of  such 
things  to  my  daughter.  She  does  not  know  which 
is  right  and  which  is  left.  Go  and  speak  to  those 
priests  now.  .  .  .  Where  is  Cortis?  "  she  asked 
her  daughter,  when  the  young  man  had  left  her. 

"  That's  right,  young  man,  go  and  silence  those 
noisy  priests,"  said  the  senator  to  Grigiolo,  as  he 
passed  through  the  billiard-room.  "  Tell  them  to 
follow  the  example  of  these  other  gentlemen.  Tell 
Don  Bartolo  to  be  quiet!  " 

Near  another  glass  door  at  the  end  of  the  large 
room,  a  group  of  men  were  discussing  some  ques- 
tion which  appeared  to  be  every  mysterious  and 
important. 

"Doctor  Grigiolo!" 

"  Here  I  am,"  answered  the  young  man.  I  will 
be  back  in  a  minute,"  and  he  went  right  on. 

"  Is  that  young  fellow  a  physician  ?  "  asked  the 
senator  of  his  companion. 

"  No,  sir,  a  doctor  at  law,"  replied  the  other  re- 
spectfully. 

The  priests  had  finished  playing.  The  chaplain, 
Don  Bartolo,  holding  a  paper  in  his  hand,  was 
reciting  some  verses,  amid  the  laughter  of  his  col- 
leagues. 

"  May  I  join  you,  Don  Bartolo?  "  asked  the  new 
comer. 

"  Come  in,  doctor,"  replied  Don  Bartolo.  "  Come 
in,  I  pray,  and  listen  to  this." 


4        '  THE  POLITICIAN 

'■  The  syndic  replied  he  was  quite  in  the  right." 

"  No,  excuse  me." 
"  But  you  must  listen  to  this." 
Doctor  Grigiolo  decided,  with  a  shudder,  to  hs- 
ten  to  another  verse,  which  ended  thus : 

"  And  the  syndic  replied  that  again  he  was  right." 

"  Very  good ;  but  allow  me  — " 

"  But,  why  won't  you  listen?  I  am  just  coming 
to  the  best  part." 

Don  Bartolo,  excited  by  several  glasses,  continued 
to  recite  his  anonymous  satire,  the  subject  of  which 
was  a  wrangle  between  some  of  the  counselors  and 
the  syndic,  each  announcing  in  turn  that  he  was 
risfht. 


't)' 


"  The  syndic  remained  with  his  head  in  the  air, 
"And  at  last  he  replied  that  none  was  wrong  there." 

Outbursts  of  laughter  came  from  all  directions! 

"  Good,  very  good,  more  than  good,"  exclaimed 
Doctor  Grigiolo  in  spite  of  himself ;  "  but  my  dear 
chaplain,  I  do  not  see  any  necessity  of  breaking 
the  ear  drums  of  your  neighbors.  You  see  there 
are  a  good  many  ladies  in  the  other  room,  and  the 
countess  begs  you  — " 

"Ladies?"  answered  Don  Bartolo.  "Just  as  if 
ladies  did  not  know  how  to  be  noisy !  " 

"  Silence,  silence ;  let  us  go  away,  do  be  quiet, 
chaplain,"  said  his  companions. 

"  We  should  be  glad  to  have  it  quieter  for  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  5 

sake  of  Count  Lao,  too,  who  is  not  at  all  well. 
Now  I  leave  you." 

Doctor  Grigiolo  looked  at  the  oldest  priest  in  the 
room  with  a  face  which  was  half  laughing,  half 
serious. 

"  Come  here,"  cried  the  incorrigible  Don  Bar- 
tolo,  "  come  here,  doctor,  don't  be  off  after  those 
women  again.  Stay  and  have  a  glass  with  us. 
Why  do  you  mention  Count  Lao  to  us  ?  You  know 
perfectly  well  that  his  apartment  is  on  the  other 
side  of  the  house.  Don't  you  know,  also,  that  he 
is  in  better  health  than  you  and  I?  Don't  you 
know  that  he  is  crazy?  " 

"  Do  silence  Don  Bartolo,"  shouted  the  senator 
from  the  other  room. 

"  Oh,  oh !  perhaps  they  have  heard  what  you 
said !  "  exclaimed  Doctor  Grigiolo  in  terror.  "  He 
is  a  Sicilian,  he  may  be  after  us  with  his  cue." 

"Heavens!"  ejaculated  the  chaplain. 

His  disappearance,  in  comic  terror,  roused  such 
unbridled  hilarity  amongst  the  others  that  Grigiolo 
ran  from  them  with  his  hands  in  his  hair,  while  Don 
Bartolo,  returning,  began  to  read  the  end  of  the 
poem  — 

"  Choose  the  man  who  seems  to  you  least  evil, 
And  do  send  all  the  others  to  the  devil." 

"  So  you  failed,  Grigioli !  "  cried  the  Countess 
Tarquinia  in  the  distance.  Another  voice  from 
among  the  conspirators  said : 

"  Come  here.  Doctor  Grigiolo." 


6  THE  POLITICIAN 

He  answered:  "  in  a  minute,"  and  was  going  on; 
but  the  senator,  Baron  of  Santa  Giulia  stopped  him 
with  his  big  heavy  hand,  and  exclaimed  with  a 
thundering  voice : 

"  Answer  me,  are  you  GrigioH  or  Grigiolo  ?  " 

The  poHte  and  slender  youth  started,  took  a  step 
backward,  and  gazed  at  the  senator  as  he  might 
have  gazed  at  Attila. 

"  Truly  it  is  Grigioli,"  he  replied,  "  the  peo- 
ple—" 

"The  people!  Ah,  I  understand,"  said  the 
Baron.  "  So  you  have  not  been  able  to  silence  Don 
Bartolo." 

"  Impossible,  senator.  Quite  impossible,  coun- 
tess. Your  white  wine  is  too  rich.  It  would  take 
a  pump  and  plenty  of  water  to  quiet  him.  We 
are  surely  going  to  have  a  deluge." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Indeed,   I  do,  Countess." 

"Don't  you  think  that  the  clouds  are  lifting?" 

"  I  don't  see  it,  countess." 

"  Have  you  looked  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,  countess." 

"  And  you  cannot  see  it?  " 

"  No  countess,  I  cannot." 

"  By  Jove,  there  is  a  good  many  countesses,"  mut- 
tered the  senator  as  he  leaned  over  the  billiard- 
table  and  practiced  a  stroke,  his  eyes  fixed  on  his 
adversary's  ball. 

"  It  is  the  custom,  baron,"  Perlotti,  who  stood 
opposite  him,  observed  humbly. 


THE  POLITICIAN 


t( 


Now    go;    the    electors    are    expecting    you, 
whispered  Countess  Tarquinia  to  Grigiolo,  giving 
him  a  push.     He  was  bored  with  the  election,  and 
would    much    rather    have    stayed    where    he    was. 
Then  the  countess  turned  to  her  guests  and  said : 
"  I    wasrer   that   this    storm    will    hurt    nothing. 


•^ts* 


And  immediately  the  chorus  of  obsequious  voices 
agreed  — 

"  I  quite  think  so  too."  "  I  am  sure  you  are 
right."     "  It  will  not  do  any  harm." 

But  at  this  very  moment  a  clash  of  thunder 
caused  every  window  to  rattle.  —' 

"  By  thunder!  "  cried  the  senator,  throwing  down 
his  cue  on  the  billiard-table. 

"  Good  heavens !  "  ejaculated  the  countess.  "  The 
windows  upstairs !  "  and  she  rushed  to  the  bell. 

A  young  lady,  who  had  not  opened  her  mouth  . 
before  began  to  groan. 

"  How  dark  it  is !  "  shouted  Grigiolo.  "  It  is 
coming  from  this  direction,  countess,  if  you  wish  to 
see  it." 

A  tremendous  gust  of  wind  rushed  through  an 
open  door,  blowing  the  curtains  about  and  scat- 
tering papers  and  letters  as  it  tore  round  the  bil- 
liard-room. As  Perlotti  went  to  shut  the  door,  the 
chaplain  rushed  out  into  the  storm. 

"Chaplain!"  exclaimed  Perlotti,  thrusting  his 
head  through  the  glass  door,  "  is  the  priest  mad?  " 

"  They  will  be  after  me  to  go  and  bless  the 
weather,"  answered  the  priest,  holding  on  his  hat 


8  THE  POLITICIAN 

as  he  ran,  while  the  tails  of  his  coat  fluttered  in  the 
wind. 

The  storm,  coming  from  behind  the  mountains 
on  the  west,  had  gone  around  to  the  south.  The 
black  clouds  which  had  collected  on  the  summit  of 
the  grey  Rumano  hills,  threatened  to  overwhelm 
the  wooded  base  of  the  mountain;  and  the  poor, 
scattered  houses,  the  newly-mown  fields  in  front  of 
the  Villa  Carre,  were  gilded  by  a  sinister  light. 

Countess  Tarquinia,  the  Perlottis,  the  Baron  of 
Santa  Giulia,  the  ladies,  Grigiolo,  and  in  fact,  all 
that  remained  of  the  party  were  huddled  together 
at  the  end  of  the  room,  which  looked  south. 

"  Nasty  mean  weather,"  said  old  Picuti  the  law- 
yer. 

"  Saint  John  and  Saint  Peter,"  observed  an- 
other, "  they  are  great  merchants  of  hail  storms !  " 

Count  Perlotti  expressed  the  fear  that  that  poor 
priest  could  not  reach  home  in  time. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  my  corn,"  ex-claimed  Signor 
Zirsela,  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  district,  who 
never  went  to  mass. 

"  And  think  of  the  grapes,"  whispered  Mrs.  Zir- 
sela. 

The  priests  had  not  stirred  from  the  room,  where 
they  were  making  more  noise  than  ever,  as  if  to 
shut  out  the  storm  which  raged  round  the  house, 
and   scattered   the   branches   and   leaves   about   the  . 
garden. 

The  Baroness  Elena,  also,  seemed  undisturbed 
by   the   storm.     Leaning  against   the  back   of  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  9 

sofa,  she  stood  alone,  with  her  head  inchned  for- 
ward on  her  breast,  and  her  arms  tightly  crossed, 
as  though  she  were  cold.  Her  large  black  eyes 
watched  the  branches  of  the  young  fir-trees  in  the 
garden,  unceasingly  shaken  by  the  wind.  Judg- 
ing from  her  grave  and  statuesque  immobility,  one 
might  have  thought  that  she  saw  some  phantom 
in  those  waving  branches,  and  that  some  voice,  in- 
audible to  the  others,  was  speaking  to  her  from 
them.  Suddenly  a  downpour  of  rain  beat  with 
fury  against  the  windows  and  the  walls,  hiding 
from  view  the  sky,  the  mountains  and  the  fir-trees, 
and  a  lurid  gleam  lighted  up  all  the  doors  and 
windows  of  the  dark  room. 

Countess  Tarquinia  said  in  a  loud  voice : 

"  Daniele  must  have  taken  root  up  there.  I  will 
go  and  see  what  is  happening." 

She  moved  near  to  her  daughter  and  said  to  her 
in  a  low^  and  complaining  voice: — 

''  My  dear  Elena,  do  you  know  that  you  leave 
me  entirely  alone  ?  You  never  help  me  in  the  least. 
Is  it  because  your  husband  does  not  wish  you 
to?" 

The  baroness  scarcely  raised  her  head,  and,  with- 
out looking  at  her  mother,  said : — 

"  My  husband  does  not  trouble  himself  about 
me." 

Her  voice  was  somewhat  grave  but  very  sweet, 
in  spite  of  a  tone  of  careless  indifference.  It  was 
that  of  one  buried  in  his  own  thoughts,  who,  on 
being  distracted  from  them  for  a  moment,  merely 


lo  THE  POLITICIAN 

gives  an  answer  with  his  Hps,  in  order  not  to  dis- 
turb their  current. 

"  That's  very  true!  "  said  the  countess. 

"  Oh,  how  unfortunate,  Elena !  Here  is  your 
mother,"  exclaimed  the  always  amiable  Perlotti, 
suddenly  appearing  behind  the  shoulders  of  the  lat- 
ter "  And  I  was  just  coming  to  make  love  to 
you ! 

The  young  woman  raised  her  eyes  to  the  sky. 

"  Go  and  join  the  rest  of  the  party,  Elena,"  in- 
sisted her  mother. 

''  Poor  thing,  she  is  bored  with  them ;  I  don't 
blame  her!  "  observed  Perlotti  caressingly  and  in  a 
melancholy  voice. 

"  Sofia  is  there,"  said  the  baroness. 

"  My  wife?     Yes,  but  she  is  not  the  hostess." 

At  this  answer,  given  somewhat  disdainfully, 
Elena  rose  and  joined  the  guests. 

"  I  am  afraid  my  dear  Tarquinia,  that  you  will 
have  to  keep  all  these  people  for  the  night,"  said 
Perlotti  in  the  ear  of  the  countess,  gently  lean- 
ing his  hand  upon  her  arm.  She  was  still  a  hand- 
some woman  and  very  elegantly  dressed. 

"Heaven  forbid!  Though  they  are  all  dear  to 
me  —  come  to  my  house  twice  a  year ;  what  a 
shame  they  should  come  on  such  a  night !  " 

She  moved  away,  followed  by  a  laugh  from  Per- 
lotti. 

She  stopped  at  the  far  end  of  the  room,  near  a 
door  leading  to  the  staircase. 

"  At  last!  "  she  said;  "  how  did  you  find  him?  " 


THE  POLITICIAN  ii 

A  masculine  voice  answered :  — 

"  Sad." 

"  That  is  nothing  new !  He  is  only  ill  because 
he  eats  and  sleeps,  and  passes  hour  after  hour  in 
reading  and  playing.  I  do  not  say  that  he  may  not 
suffer  sometimes,  but  he  pays  a  great  deal  too  much 
attention  to  himself.  The  doctor  says  that  he  must 
be  kept  amused.  Well,  we  must  do  our  best.  But 
if  you  knew,  dear,  how  hard  it  is  to  keep  others 
amused!  If  you  knew  how  wretched  I  feel  some- 
times, and  how  I  struggle  to  hide  it !  " 

"  Wretched,  aunt?  " 

The  countess  was  silent,  bit  her  lips,  and  swal- 
lowed a  sob. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  she  answered  nervously, 
closing  her  eyes,  in  which  the  tears  were  shining. 
''You  will  not  go  away  in  this  storm?  Bravo, 
then  go  and  pay  a  little  attention  to  those  ladies 
for  me." 

She  went  upstairs,  and  the  person  with  whom 
she  had  been  talking  entered  the  room  just  as  all 
the  ladies  had  turned  away  from  the  storm,  and 
settled  themselves  on  the  sofa  and  the  row  of 
chairs  between  the  billiard-table  and  the  west  door. 
Elena  skirted^  the  chairs,  in  order  to  pass  near  him, 
and  whisper  to  him : 

"  Thank  you,  Daniele,  for  having  stayed  so  long 
with  my  uncle." 

Cortis  pressed  her  hand  without  speaking.  Elena 
looked  at  him  more  closely  and  started. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked. 


12  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  A  grave  matter,"  he  answered. 

"  Ah,  there  is  our  candidate,"  shouted  the  baron. 
"  These  gentlemen  all  want  to  know  if  you  will 
bark  at  Tunis  and  bite  the  ministry." 

With  his  tall  person,  his  long  yellow  beard  and 
his  loud  voice,  the  baron  looked  like  an  old  Norman 
brigand. 

"  What  have  we  to  do  with  Tunis?  We  do  not 
care  about  Tunis,"  said  Checco  Zirsela,  a  patriot 
who  was  afraid  of  nobody.  "  We  are  not  in  Sicily 
here." 

"  Long  live  Italy ! "  answered  the  senator. 
"  Think  of  that,  all  of  you."     And  he  turned  away. 

"  Let  him  go,  the  old  trombone,"  muttered  Doc- 
tor Grigiolo. 

"  Signor  Cortis,"  said  the  new-comer,  *'  our 
friends  here,  who  belong  to  this  division,  would 
be  glad  to  say  a  few  words  to  you." 

Daniele  Cortis  turned  towards  his  friends  who, 
leaning  against  the  door  in  attitudes  which,  al- 
though respectful,  scarcely  concealed  the  conscious- 
ness of  their  power,  were  watching  him  as  he  came 
forward  into  the  dim  light.  He  was  tall  and  slim, 
with  well-cut  features  remarkable  for  their  dignity 
and  soldierly  resolution,  and  blue  eyes  that  were 
open  and  intelligent. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  said  Doctor  Picuti,  who  always 
began  his  gravest  speeches  with  these  words :  "  it 
is  nothing.  Here  we  are  persuaded  as  you  well 
know,  but  it  sometimes  happens  that  we  talk  to  our 


THE  POLITICIAN  13 

friends  from  other  departments.  I  for  example, 
or  my  friend  Zirsela." 

"  Quite  so,"  said  the  latter,  encouraging  his 
friend  to  continue. 

"  We  two  and  some  others  are  frequently  obliged 
to  go  amongst  people  belonging  to  other  depart- 
ments, and  there  we  hear  it  said  that  you  are 
but  little  known  (they  are  ignorant  people,  and  one 
cannot  help  that),  and  that  they  have  no  idea  as 
to  your  opinions  on  certain  questions;  and  so  we 
think  it  would  be  well  that  you  should,  either  by 
means  of  speech,  or  by  means  of  the  press,  I  don't 
know  if  I  make  myself  clear — " 

"  They  want  a  programme,"  said  the  baron  to 
the  ladies,  in  a  somew^hat  lower  tone.  "  They  are 
quite  right.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  candidate  with- 
out a  programme?  It  is  like  a  house  without  a 
front  to  it." 

"  It  is  better  so  than  to  have  so  many  fronts 
without  houses,  or  programmes  without  men  be- 
hind them,"  said  his  wiie  hastily. 

"  Is  it  true,  Elena,"  asked  Countess  Sofia  Per- 
lotti  suddenly,  "  that  your  cousin  is  called  Daniele 
Volveno?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Elena  drily. 

"  What  strange  names  you  people  have  here !  " 
exclaimed  the  baron. 

"  It  is  not  a  name  of  our  Veneto  province,  baron," 
answered  Signora  Perlotti.  "  It  is  a  name  of 
Friuli.     Signor  Cortis  comes  from  Friuli." 


14  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  know  that.  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  it  ? 
And  pray,  where  is  Friuli,  if  it  is  not  Veneto?  A 
fine  geography  lesson  you  are  teaching  me." 

The  lady  bit  her  lips, 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  "  but — " 

A  this  moment  her  husband  thought  it  advisable 
to  go  and  flatten  his  nose  against  the  window,  and 
exclaimed:  "Oh,  do  look  here!  Look  here!  Is 
that  not  Malcaiiton  coming  up?  " 

They  saw  an  umbrella  slowly  advancing  under 
the  dripping  fir-trees.  Every  one  rushed  to  the 
window  except  the  baron  and  his  wife. 

"  Malcanton,  Malcanton?     Yes  indeed  it  is  he." 

"  My  goodness,"  exclaimed  the  countess,  re-en- 
tering at  that  moment,  "  I  had  forgotten  about 
him." 

She  had  sent  this  Malcanton  a  few  hours  pre- 
vious to  do  some  errands. 

"  I  had  entirely  forgotten  him."  She  added, 
"  What  an  object  he  is.  He  looks  like  a  drowned 
rat." 

She  opened  the  door,  and  thrusting  out  her  head, 
cried  to  him  in  her  most  amiable  voice,  "  Come  in, 
quick,  quick !  " 

Signor  Malcanton  came  in,  shaking  himself  like 
a  spaniel,  and  held  the  umbrella  at  arms  length, 
while  the  countess  groaned: 

"  Oh  my  poor  fellow !  I  have  been  in  such  dis- 
tress about  you.  How  drenched  you  are!  I  am 
so  sorry.  Quick,  somebody,  get  a  hot  brandy 
punch." 


THE  POLITICIAN  15 

"I  have  done  everything!"  answered  the  poor 
felloAV.  "  I  have  seen  Signor  Momi  and  Signora 
Catina.  I  have  engaged  the  band,  and  telegraphed 
for  the  fireworks." 

"  And  taken  in  plenty  of  water  into  the  bar- 
gain," roared  the  baron,  seated  behind  the  others 
on  the  billiard-table,  with  his  legs  dangling.  Every 
one  laughed,  except  Malcanton,  who  stared  at  him 
open-mouthed. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you  a  thousand  times ;  but, 
now  do  go  upstairs,"  said  the  countess,  suppressing 
her  laughter.  "  Elena  go  to  your  uncle,  and  on 
your  way,  see  about  the  punch." 

"  By-the-by,"  continued  Malcanton,  "  I  have  writ- 
ten for  that  book  on  "  laven-tennisf  and  have 
asked  how  it  should  be  pronounced." 

"  Laan-tennis,"  said  Countess  Perlotti. 

"  Loon,  loon !  "  bellowed  the  baron. 

"  Whether  it  be  laan,  or  loon,  I  still  say  laven," 
maintained  Malcanten.  "  But  we  shall  soon 
know." 

Countess  Tarquinia  had  ordered  a  set  of  lawn- 
tennis,  the  first  which  had  been  seen  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. Nobody  knew  how  to  play  it  and  every- 
one pronounced  it  differently;  but  nevertheless, 
they  had  lawn-tennis  at  Villa  Carre.  Even  at  the 
"  Italia,"  the  cafe  in  the  town,  they  discussed  at 
great  length  whether  it  should  be  laan  or  loon. 

"  Now  with  your  permission,  I  will  retire,"  con- 
cluded Malcanton,  and  he  disappeared  behind  the 
baroness,  while  the  senator  said  in  a  marked  voice : 


i6  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Great  doings,  Countess  Tarquinia !  " 

"  Too  great,"  murmured  poor  Malcanton  to  his 
companion,  to  whom  he  persisted  in  talking  as 
though  she  were  still  a  child.  "  Do  you  not  think 
Elena,  that  such  a  drenching  — " 

The  young  lady  did  not  pay  any  attention  to 
him !  she  flew  up  the  stairs,  forgetting  all  about  the 
punch,  and  entered  the  empty  room  on  the  second 
floor.  She  could  hear  the  voices  of  the  priests,  the 
senator  and  the  rest  of  the  company  indistinctly, 
from  below,  while  the  rain  seemed  to  repeat  to 
her,  in  a  deep  bass  voice :  "  A  grave  matter." 
She  crossed  the  room  slowly,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  Daniele  had 
spent  so  much  time. 

A  grave  matter! 

Leaning  her  head  against  the  door  she  gently 
knocked  twice.  A  loud  voice  answered,  "  Come 
in!" 


CHAPTER  II 

" A  GRAVE  MATTER  " 

"  Come  in,"  said  Count  Lao,  "  and  shut  the  door 
quickly,  for  there  is  an  infernal  draught.  It  is 
about  time  you  came !  And  what  a  damnable  noise 
those  howling  priests  are  making.  I  wish  I  could 
get  at  them  with  a  stick !  What  in  the  world  does 
your  mother  mean  by  inviting  priests  here?  They 
are  all  drunk  by  this  time!  What  wine  did  she 
give  them,  goose  that  she  is — ?" 

Elena  bowed  profoundly. 

"  I  will  go  and  find  out,  count." 

"  Ah,  you  naughty  girl,"  exclaimed  the  count, 
recovering  his  temper.  "  Come  here.  Forgive 
me,  but  she  came  up  to  me  about  ten  minutes  ago, 
as  fresh  as  a  rose,  to  ask  me  if  I  wanted  anything. 
She  must  have  lost  her  senses.  As  if  I  could  want 
anything,  when  this  noise  pierces  the  very  walls! 
I  told  her  I  wished  to  send  them  to  perdition !  And 
she  only  said,  I  did  not  think  you  could  hear  them. 
Have  I  not  troubles  enough  as  it  is;  I  ought  to  be 
deaf  too  to  please  them !  Come  in.  What  are  you 
standing  at  the  door  for  ?  Why  are  you  staring  at 
me?  Am  I  pale?  Am  I  green  or  yellow?  Do  I 
look  like  a  dead  man  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  uncle ;  you  look  like  a  bear  in  a  rage." 

17 


i8  THE  POLITICIAN 

"A  white  bear?" 

"  No,  a  grey  bear,  uncle." 

Instead  of  answering,  Count  Ladislao  drew  a 
looking-glass  from  his  pocket,  and  approached  the 
window. 

"  Oh  no,"  said  he,  "  I  am  pale." 

In  fact  he  was  pale,  and  his  pallor  was  height- 
ened by  two  large  black  eyes  and  a  black  beard, 
which  though  short,  was  very  thick,  and  a  high 
yellowish  forehead,  scantily  covered  with  bristling 
black  hair.  He  turned  his  back  to  his  niece,  and 
looked  at  his  tongue. 

"  You  are  looking  very  well,  uncle,"  she  said, 
"  you  are  a  handsome  man,  so  you  may  be  quite 
happy." 

Her  uncle  turned  round  sharply  and  drew  him- 
self up. 

"  After  all,"  he  exclaimed,  "  if  I  were  not  ill  — " 

He  was  tall  and  of  elegant  figure;  a  large, 
shapely  aristocratic  nose  did  not  spoil  his  face, 
which  was  partly  sentimental,  partly  comic, 

"  If  you  did  not  dream  of  being  ill,"  said 
Elena. 

"  So,  I  only  dream  of  it,  do  I  ?  This  kind  of 
life  amuses  me,  does  it?  I  enjoy  being  unable  to 
digest  by  day,  or  to  sleep  by  night,  do  I  ?  I  enjoy 
being  racked  with  pains  for  thirteen  months  of  the 
year,  I  suppose?  Do  you  hear  those  abominable 
priests?  Perhaps  I  enjoy  that  too!  Don't  you 
talk  any  more  nonsense,  but  play  me  instead  that 
symphony   of   Corelli." 


THE  POLITICIAN  19 

He  seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair  behind  a  ta- 
ble, in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room,  the  furthest 
from  the  door  and  the  three  windows.  Close  to 
his  right  the  upright  piano,  standing  against  the 
door  was  open. 

"  I  cannot  see,  uncle." 

"  Never  mind,  you  know  it  by  heart !  " 

Elena  began  to  hum  the  motive  of  a  pastorale 
with  a  sweet  melodious  voice  full  of  sentiment. 

"  I  don't  feel  like  playing  to-night." 

"Why  not?" 

Elena  did  not  reply.  Seated  between  the  win- 
dow and  the  writing-table,  she  watched  him  ner- 
vously finger  an  open  book,  that  lay  aslant  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  table.  Count  Lao  evidently  in- 
terpreted her  silence  in  his  own  fashion,  for  he 
lighted  a  cigarette  instead  of  insisting. 

"  It  is  certainly  not  my  fault,"  said  he,  throwing 
the  match  into  the  ash-tray. 

"What  fault,  uncle?" 

Count  Lao  leaned  his  arm  on  the  table  and 
watched  the  match  as  it  burned  out. 

"  That  we  should  come  to  this !  "  he  said. 

Elena  did  not  understand. 

"  That  English  poet  is  not  worth  much !  "  ex- 
claimed Count  Lao,  as  though  to  break  the  thread 
of  disagreeable  thoughts.  "  He  is  worth  very  lit- 
tle! He  is  full  of  nonsensical  ideas.  I  expected 
as  much.  The  sky  which  becomes  seven  times 
more  divine  to  the  assumption  of  Mazzini!  Non- 
sense !  " 


20  THE  POLITICIAN 

"Where  have  your  thoughts  wandered,  uncle?" 
asked  Elena  rising. 

She  came  and  sat  down  on  the  music-stool  near 
him. 

"  Eh !  where  is  your  head  now  ?  "  answered  Lao. 
"  Tell  me,  were  they  playing  billiards  a  short  time 
ago  before  the  storm?" 

"  Yes." 

"Was  your  husband  playing?" 

"  Yes,  he  and  Perlotti." 

"  He  is  quite  a  philosopher !  " 

He  remained  in  thought  for  a  moment,  then  sud- 
denly jumped  up,  he  threw  away  his  cigarette  and 
went  to  lay  his  hands  on  either  side  of  Elena's  head ; 
while  she  with  a  movement  of  involuntary  pride, 
tried  to  free  herself. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  he,  pulling  her  forward  un- 
til her  head  rested  on  his  chest,  you  have  a  great 
scoundrel  for  a  husband.  "  He  placed  his  lips  on 
her  hair  and  whispered: 

"  I  will  get  even  with  him !  " 

Elena  indignantly  shook  herself  free  from  his 
embrace,  and  looked  at  him  with  glittering  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  make  me  suffer  by  say- 
ing such  things  ?  "  she  said.  "  Do  you  know  that 
they  offend  me?  I  knew  about  my  husband  be- 
fore I  was  engaged  to  him.  I  allowed  him  to  be 
engaged  to  me  before  I  married  him.  Think  what- 
ever you  please  but  say  nothing.  He  has  never 
deceived  me ;  he  has  always  been  the  same.    It  would 


THE  POLITICIAN  21 

be  dishonorable  in  me  to  allow  you  to  say  such 
things  to  me.'' 

She  turned  her  back  on  him  and  moved  to  the 
window,  to  look  out,  while  her  uncle  continued 
angrily : 

"  Yes,  that's  all  very  well !  But  nobody  knows 
that  you  were  a  child!  Nobody  knows  that  you 
were  forced  into  it !  " 

"  No,  I  was  not  forced !  "  replied  Elena,  turning 
sharply  round.  "  Mamma,  at  first  pressed  me  a 
little,  perhaps,  but  poor,  dear  papa  always  repeated 
up  to  the  last  moment :  '  remember  that  you  are 
free;  remember  that  there  is  still  time!'  But  he 
need  not  have  said  that,  because  I  was  not  such  a 
child.  I  was  nineteen  years  old,  and  I  quite  un- 
derstood what  I  was  about." 

"  Well,  then,  why  in  the  world  did  you  con- 
sent? I  protest  that  if  I  had  been  there,  you 
would  not  have  consented." 

"  Oh !  uncle !  "  she  said  proudly.  She  disdained 
to  speak,  to  admit  that  she  had  accepted  the  first 
husband  offered  to  her,  because  certain  intrigues 
carried  on  by  her  mother  had  been  distasteful  to 
her. 

"  And  now,"  she  exclaimed,  "  of  what  new  mon- 
strosity has  my  husband  been  guilty  ?  He  has  asked 
for  some  money,  I  suppose.  That  is,  perhaps,  the 
very  reason  that  mother  has  the  blues  and  you  are 
unreasonable." 

"  Ye  gods !  "  exclaimed  the  count,  turning  around 


22  THE  POLITICIAN 

and  slowly  bowing  his  head  towards  some  imag- 
inary beings,  some  imaginary  judges  of  appeal,  "  I 
leave  it  in  your  hands." 

He  raised  his  hands  and  let  them  fall  heavily 
again  by  his  sides. 

"  Let  us  not  speak  any  more  about  it." 

He  seated  himself  at  the  piano,  as  if  he  had 
nothing  more  to  do  with  the  matter  and  began  to 
strum  a  noisy  polka,  muttering  to  himself  as  he 
played : 

"  You  have  been  well  brought  up,  indeed !  Upon 
my  word!  A  little  of  your  money!  What  would 
be  the  use  of  that?  A  little  of  your  money,  alas! 
Well  brought  up !     By  Jove !  a  fine  education !  "  • 

"  Do  stop,  uncle,  and  calm  yourself,"  said  Elena ; 
"  how  foolish  you  are  this  evening.  I  have  never 
seen  you  like  this  before." 

"  Dance,  my  dear,  dance !  don't  you  hear  that  I 
am  playing?  Why  worry  about  money!  Dance 
and  be  happy,"  said  the  count  sarcastically. 

"  What  nonsense,  uncle.  Do  you  wish  me  to 
torture  myself  for  the  sake  of  this  money?  Do 
be  quiet.     Your  music  is  tiresome." 

The  count  seized  with  both  hands  the  music-stool 
upon  which  he  was  seated  and  swung  himself  com- 
pletely around. 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  said  he,  "  and  you  will  tell  me 
later,  what  your  talk  is  driving  at.  You  do  not 
mind  if  your  husband,  after  having  gambled  away 
his  money  as  well  as  your  own,  wants  ours  to  gam- 
ble with  too!     It  does  not  matter  to  you  that  he 


THE  POLITICIAN 


23 


comes  here  swaggering,  pretending  to  claim  money 
that  he  has  no  right  to,  saying  that  you  squandered 
your  money  right  and  left  — ■" 

"  That  may  be,"  said  Elena  coldly. 

"  Threatening  to  shut  you  up  for  ever  at*  Cefalu, 
like  an  unworthy  wife,  unless  this  money  is  given 
to  him." 

The  baroness  started  and  asked  abruptly : 

"  Has  he  said  that  to  you  ?  " 

The  count  tapped  his  chest  with  his  forefinger, 
raising  his  eyebrows. 

"To  me?"  he  said.  "I  would  very  quickly 
have  given  him  the  money,  and  then  would  have 
thrown  him  out  of  the  window  —  him  and  the 
money  together  in  one  heap.  But  he  said  it,  or 
what  was  equivalent  to  it,  to  your  mother." 

"When?" 

"  This  morning.  I  thought  that,  of  course,  you 
knew." 

"  I  knew  nothing  about  it." 

"  Very  good,  then  you  know  nothing  about  it 
when  3^our  senator  says  it  to  you;  don't  let  him 
know  I  told  you." 

"  No." 

"  I  have  let  him  know  that  he  had  better  not 
repeat  those  things  to  me.  Your  mother  must  have 
given  him  my  message  already.  Your  mother  is 
always  trying  to  serve  both  God  and  Mammon. 
She  is  always  vacillating.  It  is  true  that  you  knew 
nothing  about  all  this  ?  " 

"  I    knew    that    my   husband    was    in    want    of 


24  THE  POLITICIAN 

money.  Before  coming  here,  he  begged  me,  as  he 
always  does,  to  ask  you  for  some.  I  told  him 
that  he  was  perfectly  at  liberty  to  do  as  he  liked 
about  it,  but  that,  for  my  part,  I  would  not  men- 
tion the  subject  to  you!  " 

"  Who  knows  how  he  may  have  urged  you !  " 

"  Urged  me?  He  has  not  said  a  word  about  this 
since.     He  does  not  urge  me." 

"  Is  he  never  aggressive  ?  "  asked  Lao  incredu- 
lously. 

"  No,  never,"  answered  his  niece,  apparently  sur- 
prised at  having  to  affirm  a  thing  twice.  "  If  he 
were  I  should  soon  put  him  in  his  place." 

The  other  was  silent. 

So,  this  is  the  "  grave  matter,"  thought  Elena. 
Is  it  really  so  grave?  The  doings  of  her  husband 
troubled  her  but  little.  It  was  evident  that  her 
uncle  would  never  hear  of  her  being  imprisoned 
at  Cefalu.  No,  she  tortured  herself  because  of 
what  Daniele  had  said  to  her.  The  rain  still  fell 
outside,  a  dreary  accompaniment  to  his  sad  voice. 

"  Uncle,"  said  the  baroness,  "  what  induced  you 
to  tell  this  to  Daniele  ?  " 

"I?     What?     I  have  told  nothing  to  Daniele." 

"  Nothing?  Yes,  I  saw  him  just  now  as  he  left 
you,  and  he  told  me  that  something  serious  had 
happened." 

"  Something  serious?  I  don't  know  anything 
serious !  " 

Elena  noticed  a  change  in  her  uncle's  voice,  an 
exaggerated   indifference. 


THE  POLITICIAN  25 

"  Does  it  not  seem  serious  to  you,  my  being  ban- 
ished to  Cefalu?"  she  asked  smiHng. 

"  Oh,  yes,  certainly.     Can  it  have  been  that?  " 

"  But  uncle  — " 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  are  worrying  me !  "  ex- 
claimed the  count.  "  Daniele  and  I  did  not  talk 
of  your  husband,  or  of  yourself,  or  of  myself.  If 
you  want  confidences,  go  to  Daniele  for  them." 

Elena  made  no  answer. 

"  Forgive  me,"  continued  her  uncle.  "  It  is  a 
matter  which  concerns  him  alone.  I  cannot  tell 
you  about  it." 

She  regretted  having  revealed  those  two  words 
of  her  cousin's  which  might  suggest  a  very  inti- 
mate and  confidential  friendship.  All  of  a  sudden 
she  started  as  though  she  heard  something,  ran  to 
the  window  and  opened  it.  A  noise  of  running 
water  filled  the  room. 

"  Are  you  mad?  "  cried  Count  Lao.  jumping  up, 
and  seizing  the  cape  of  his  overcoat  from  a  hook 
on  the  door.  "  Shut  the  window,  for  heaven's 
sake!     What  the  devil  are  you  doing?" 

It  had  stopped  raining;  only  a  few  large  drops 
fell  from  the  eaves  of  the  house  on  the  gravel 
path. 

"  It  is  not  raining,  uncle !  There  is  not  a  breath 
of  wind  stirring." 

"Oh  indeed,  you  call  this  not  a  breath!  Good 
God,  all  this  air!  Shut  the  window  at  once,  I 
say.  What  dampness!  The  Rovese  torrent  seems 
to  be  rushing  through  the  room,  and  yet  you  te'l 


26  THE  POLITICIAN 

me  there  is  not  a  breath  of  air!     Quick,  now,  shut 
it,  and  behave  yourself !  " 

Elena  paid  no  attention  to  him. 

"  Forgive  me,  uncle,  I  have  just  heard  the  bil- 
liard-room door  open,  and  I  want  to  see  who  is 
going,"  she  said  hastily,  and  in  a  low  voice. 

The  priests  were  going  out  with  a  great  tramp- 
ing of  feet,  and  a  great  demonstration  of  low 
bows.  The  senator  was  with  them.  He  took  the 
rector  of  Caodemuro  by  the  arm  and  whispered 
something  to  him.  All  the  others  crowded  around 
them.  He,  a  fat,  rubicund  priest,  with  gold  spec- 
tacles, answered  in  a  loud  voice, — 

"  Yes,  but  you  know  that  we  must  stand  by 
the  Pope;  we  cannot  openly  do  anything  else. 
Non  expedid.  If  I  had  hundred  votes  to  give, 
this  gentleman  here  should  not  have  one  of  them ; 
and  I  shall  be  delighted  if  he  gets  well  beaten.  But 
I  am  afraid  that  won't  happen,  because,  every  one 
about  here  will  vote  for  him.  The  most  that  we 
can  do  is  to  persuade  one  or  two  people  to  stay 
at  home.     But  even  these  — " 

"  Let  us  go  further  away  to  talk,"  said  the  sen- 
ator, who  did  not  care  to  have  these  things  said  in  a 
loud  voice  so  near  the  house.  But  at  that  moment 
Elena  called  him  from  the  window. 

"  Carmine!  " 

The  baron  looked  up.  The  priests  turned 
around  too,  and  saluted  with  a  sort  of  dismayed 
humility,  bowing  their  heads,  and  raising  their 
eyes.     The   baroness   scarcely   acknowledged   them 


THE  POLITICIAN  27 

with  a  movement  of  the  head,  while  she  asked  her 
husband  whether  Cortis  were  still  in  the  billiard- 
room. 

"Yes,"  he  returned;  "why?" 

"  Because  I  want  to  speak  to  him,"  replied  Elena 
quietly,  as  she  shut  the  window. 

"  And  mamma  ?  "  she  said,  turning  to  her  un- 
cle, "  what  does  she  say  about  it?  " 

"  Have  you  shut  it  properly  ?  "  asked  the  count, 
taking  off  his  cape.  "  She  is  making  herself  mis- 
erable about  it :  she  weeps,  she  storms  at  me  be- 
cause I  will  not  undertake  offhand  to  do  what  her 
son-in-law  wishes.  She  will  never  persuade  me. 
If  she  likes  to  sacrifice  her  own  possessions  to  him, 
well  and  good;  but  I  think  she  would  turn  a  deaf 
ear  to  such  proposals." 

"  Poor  mamma,"  said  Elena,  smiling.  "  Tears 
are  cheaper.     Good-bye,  uncle." 

She  offered  him  her  hand.  Lao  held  it  firmly 
,  for  a  minute,  and  kept  her  thus  without  speak- 
ing. 

"  Elena,"  he  said  in  a  choking  voice,  "  you  know 
me,  don't  you?  " 

She  put  out  her  left  hand  also,  and,  with  an  af- 
fectionate impulse  seized  both  of  his,  and  held  them 
tightly. 

"  Good,"  said  he. 

Elena  knew  that  she  could  rely  upon  that  true 
honest  heart,  so  warm  under  its  apparent  indif- 
ference. Some  secret  defect  of  the  mind  had 
warped  his  personality  and  this  weakness  encour- 


28  THE  POLITICIAN 

aged  by  family  tradition,  increased  by  habit,  fos- 
tered by  suffering  really  existing  either  in  his  body 
or  in  his  imagination,  had  been  strengthened  by  a 
bitter  scepticism,  until  it  seemed  the  real  position 
of  the  man  towards  the  world. 

A  servant  entered  to  see  whether  Signer  Daniele 
had  left  his  gloves  there. 

The  baroness  released  herself  hastily  from  her 
uncle,  hurried  from  the  room,  and  went  down  to 
the  verandah  by  a  dark  back  staircase.  At  the 
foot  she  met  somebody  coming  up. 

"  Who  is  there?  "  she  asl<ed. 

"  Your  fisherman,  contessina,  Pitantoi." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  my  good  man ;,  are  you 
not  going  to  vote  for  Signor  Cortis?" 

"  I  ?  When  all  the  poor  people  vote,  then  I  will 
vote  too.  But  they  tell  me  that  the  law  has  not  yet 
been  made." 

"  Are  you  not  a  voter  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  I  am  not,  contessina.     What  would* 
you  have?     We  have  a  lot  of  voters  here  that  I 
don't  think  much  of;  look  at  them;  and  besides — " 

The  baroness  passed  him  quickly,  and  disap- 
peared. 

Cortis  had  just  come  on  the  verandah,  and  was 
walking  there  with  Grigiolo,  when  Elena  joined 
them  from  the  back  staircase. 

"  Are  you  going?  "  she  asked. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  her. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  going  home." 


THE  POLITICIAN  29 

"  Because  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you,"  con- 
tinued Elena. 

Doctor  Grigiolo  dropped  discreetly  a  few  paces 
behind  them. 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  favor,  Grigiolo,  to  tell 
mamma  that  I  have  gone  out  for  a  moment  with 
Daniele?" 

Elena  spoke  with  a  smile,  and  with  the  frankest 
indifference. 

"  I  fly,  baroness,  I  fly,"  replied  the  zealous  youth. 
And  so  Cortis,  I  may  come  to  you  to-morrow  morn- 
ing to  discuss  this  programme." 

"No,"  replied  the  other;  "to-morrow  I  am  go- 
ing away."  • 

"  You  are  going  away  ?  But  you  will  be  back 
soon  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  But  before  the  election,  at  any  rate  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  But  what  shall  we  do  ?  Excuse  me  for  inter- 
rupting you,  baroness." 

"  Of  course,"  exclaimed  Elena,  "  I  am  very  deeply 
interested  in  all  this!  I  feel  like  a  political  agent 
myself,  you  know." 

Meanwhile  Cortis  reflected. 

"  Come  this  evening,"  he  said. 

Grigiolo  was  rather  embarrassed.  Countess  Tar- 
quinia  counted  upon  him  to  keep  her  party  amused. 
How  could  he  manage  ? 

"  Come  when  they  are   all   gone  to   bed,"    said 


30  THE  POLITICIAN 

Cortis,  "  at  eleven,  or  midnight,  or  when  you  Hke." 

The  other,  unable  to  find  further  excuses,  grum- 
bled out  a  dissatisfied  "  All  right,"  full  of  laziness 
and  the  desire  for  sleep.  But  Cortis  partly  from 
inability  to  understand  this  weakness,  partly  because 
his  head  was  full  of  other  things,  considered  the 
matter  settled,  and  having  dismissed  the  young 
man,  turned  to  meet  the  questionings  in  Elena's 
eyes. 

He  answered  by  a  long  and  solemn  gaze. 
Neither  spoke.  After  a  pause,  which  seemed  to 
each  of  them  an  eternity,  they  slowly  moved  by 
silent  consent  toward  the  portico,  neither  knowing 
which  had  made  the  first  step.  *  They  reached  in 
silence  an  open  space,  whence  one  path  ran  to  the 
right,  across  the  fields,  towards  Villascura  and  Cor- 
tis's  house;  wdiile  another  sloped  away  to  the  left 
towards  the  torrent  of  Rovese,. opposite  the  naked, 
overhanging  teulders  of  Monte  Barco;  and  still  a 
third  ran  straight  to  three  tall  firs,  which  overlooked 
the  valley,  from  the  edge  of  a  steep  declivity. 
Elena  trembled,  fearing  lest  her  cousin  should  take 
the  path  to  the  left,  which  led  to  his  own  house. 
Could  she  follow  him  there,  and  in  a  way,  compel 
him  to  speak?  However,  he  went  straight  on  to- 
wards the  fir-trees.  Her  heart  beat  high,  and  her 
cheeks  flushed. 

"  Dear  Elena,"  said  Cortis. 

His  masculine  and  sonorous  voice  sounded  as 
though  it  were  muffled  by  a  mortal  pain. 

"  A  grave  matter,"  said  he  stopping  and  looking 


THE  POLITICIAN  31 

at  his  cousin.     He  read  her  great  trouble  in  her 
face,  for  he  added  hurriedly : 

"  No,  dear,  it  is  not  too  much  for  me." 

"  I  believe  it,"  she  said  gazing  straight  in  front 
of  her  with  fixed  eyes.  She  did  not  seem  to  be 
the  same  Elena,  either  in  voice  or  look,  who  had 
spoken  two  minutes  previously  to  Doctor  Grigiolo. 

"  You  ought  to  know  it,"  continued  Cortis;  "  but 
it  is  not  easy  to  say — " 

"  Then  tell  me  nothing.  I  was  wrong  to  come 
and  impose  myself  upon  you  in  this  manner,"  an- 
swered Elena  in  a  low  voice,  still  gazing  into 
space. 

She  hoped  that  perhaps  her  cousin  did  not  con- 
sider her  presence  an  imposition,  but  she  stretched 
her  hand  to  him,  with  a  forced  smile. 

"  I  wish  you  a  pleasant  journey,"  she  said. 

He  made  a  gesture  of  impatience,  and  only  an- 
swered, 

"Oh!" 

Elena  blushed,  as  if  by  that  "  Oh  "  she  had  been 
reminded  with  a  gentle  reproof,  of  so  many  inti- 
mate matters,  of  so  many  signs  of  a  friendship  that 
was  rather  felt  than  expressed.  She  withdrew  her 
hand,  and  said  timidly : 

"  Forgive  me!  " 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Cortis.  "  Let  us  walk 
on,  and  see  whether,  with  your  cleverness,  you  can 
guess  anything." 

They  walked  a  few  steps  in  silence.  Elena  keep- 
ing her  e}'es  firmly  fixed  on  the  ground. 


2,2  THE  POLITICIAN 

All  at  once  she  raised  her  head. 

"  My  husband? — "  said  she. 

She  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  when  Cortis 
answered,  "  No,  no." 

She  repented  bitterly  of  having  spoken,  and  was 
angry  with  herself.  Her  husband  was  never  men- 
tioned in  her  talks  with  Cortis.  No  act,  no  word, 
passed  between  the  cousins  of  which  he  could  com- 
plain. 

In  the  meanwhile  they  reached  the  firs,  which 
were  groaning  overhead,  blown  about  by  the  wind, 
and  which  showered  down  large  drops  of  rain.  On 
the  left,  the  oldest  of  the  trees  bent  its  long  arms 
over  the  steep  declivities,  which  descended  on  one 
side  towards  the  river. 

On  the  right,  the  road  wound  downwards  under 
wooded  banks. 

"  Where  are  we  going?  "  asked  Cortis. 

In  their  carelessness,  they  had  walked  straight 
on,  and  had  come  into  the  long  grass,  drenched  with 
the  rain.  They  were  obliged  to  turn  back,  and 
neither  spoke  again  until  they  had  descended  into 
the  quiet  winding  path,  which  sheltered  them  from 
behind. 

Then  he  stopped. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  he,  "  you  know  all  the  sad- 
things  that  happened  years  ago  at  home?  " 

She  was  reassured,  and,  forgetting  her  previous 
mistaken  question,  answered  quickly,  "  I  do." 

She  had  not  expected  this.  She  knew  that  Cor- 
tis's  mother  having  proved  unfaithful  to  her  hus- 


THE  POLITICIAN  33 

band,  had  been  driven  from  his  house  a  few  years 
after  the  birth  of  Daniele,  and  had  since  died  in 
neglect. 

She  considered. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  exclaimed,  leaving  much  unex- 
pressed,— "  perhaps  she  has  left  — " 

Cortis  interrupted  her  by  shaking  his  head. 

"  No,"  said  he,  after  a  moment. 

Elena  remembered  having  heard  that  the  name  of 
the  seducer  had  never  been  positively  known,  and 
hazarded  another  guess. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  discovered  who  — " 

Cortis  again  shook  his  head. 

"  Imagine  the  most  incredible  thing,"  he  said,  and 
he  looked  at  his  cousin  in  such  a  manner  that  the 
truth  suddenly  became  clear  to  her. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said,  seizing  his  arm. 

He  nodded  his  head. 

They  continued  looking  at  each  other  in  silence, 
amazement  written  upon  one  face,  and  horror  on  the 
other. 

"And  you  never  suspected  it?"  asked  Elena 
gently. 

"  Never,"  he  answered,  raising  his  arm,  and  sigh- 
ing. "  My  father  had  always  made  me  believe  that 
she  was  dead.  But  now  I  remember  on  one  occa- 
sion, when  I  was  asking  him  about  a  great  many 
things,  I  might  have  understood,  had  I  not  been  a 
mere  boy,  that  he  was  hiding  the  truth  from  me." 

She  dared  not  go  further,  or  put  any  other  ques- 
tions; she  feared  to  learn  something  terrible. 


34  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it  yet,"  continued  Cortis, 
"  So  far,  I  iiave  only  received  a  letter." 

"From  her?" 

''  No,  from  a  lady  who  lives  with  her." 

"Where?" 

"  At  Lugano.  A  letter  which  would  drive  me 
mad  if  I  had  not  a  brain  of  steel." 

"  This  person  writes  to  me  that  my  mother  is 
still  living,  that  she  is  ill  and  wishes  to  see  me," 
he  added,  answering  Elena's  anxious  glance.  "  It 
might  be  a  great  happiness,  but  you  must  take  into 
consideration  my  mother's  story,  and  the  high- 
flown  trivialities,  as  well  as  the  scented  writing- 
paper  of  her  friend,  in  order  to  understand  it  all 
properly." 

A  sob  choked  his  words. 

"  You  know,  Elena,"  he  continued  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice,  "I  used  to  think  sometimes:  If  she 
were  still  living,  hidden  in  some  quiet  place  where 
by  her  work  she  could  gain  bread  and  respect,  and 
if  I  could  find  her  there,  I  could  straightway  forget 
all  that  my  father  had  suffered.  You  don't  know 
what  a  heart  my  poor  father  had,  and  what  prayers 
he  used  to  make  me  say  every  night, —  do  you  un- 
derstand ?  —  every  night  a  prayer  for  the  eternal 
rest  of  my  mother's  soul.  But  I  thought  that  I 
would  forget  all  that,  and  — " 

Cortis  broke  suddenly.  Words  were  inadequate 
to  express  the  feelings  of  tempestuous  love  with 
which  he  would  have  flung  himself  into  the  arms 


THE  POLITICIAN  35 

of  his  mother.  He  abruptly  moved  away  from 
Elena,  who  remained  motionless. 

"But  you  will  go?"  she  said,  with  unexpected 
force. 

Cortis  turned  back. 

"  You  know  very  well,"  he  answered  sharply, 
"  that  I  should  go  if  it  were  to  cost  me  my  life." 

"  Yes,  go !  "  exclaimed  Elena,  coming  close  to 
him.  "  Think  of  what  she  has  suffered.  I  would 
go  if  I  could." 

"  You?     But  suppose  she  has  suffered  nothing?  " 

Elena  started  in  surprise. 

"  Oh,  that  is  impossible,"  she  said. 

The  man  of  steel  had  not  the  strength  to  reply; 
he  was  choked  with  tears.  With  all  his  leonine 
strength  he  often  had  still  both  in  joy  and  in  grief, 
attacks  of  childish  weeping  that  passed  away  like 
clouds  heavily  charged  with  electricity.  To  Elena, 
those  tears  came  as  a  revelation  of  what  he  dreaded ; 
she  regretted  that  she  was  so  ignorant,  so  slow  to 
understand  certain  forms  of  depravity  of  which  she 
had  heard,  but  which  she  had  never  quite  believed  to 
exist;  she  regretted  having  suggested  to  Cortis 
involuntarily  a  bitter  comparison  between  herself 
and  a  woman  perhaps  incapable  of  remorse.  Af- 
fected by  his  emotion,  she  spoke  to  him  breathlessly, 
with  a  strange  new  voice,  which  she  strove  to  render 
calm. 

"  But  she  wants  you,"  she  said;  "  and  that  signi- 
fies so  many  things." 


36  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Enough,  dear,"  he  repHed,  controlHng-  himself. 
"  It  is  folly  to  be  so  overcome,  and  in  this  place,  too. 
One  can  only  do  one's  best,  can't  one,  Elena  ?  See 
what  a  beautiful  sky." 

They  were  looking  towards  the  lowlands  on  the 
east,  and  there,  between  the  mountains,  the  sky  and 
the  open  plains  of  Veneto  were  bathed  in  transpar- 
ent serenity;  but  a  thick  veil  of  clouds  still  over- 
hung the  valley,  throwing  a  blue-black  shadow  on 
the  peaks  of  the  mountains;  and  the  stiff,  sombre 
fir-trees,  which  rose  toward  heaven  from  a  neigh- 
bouring height,  seemed  to  be  on  the  look-out  for  a 
second  storm. 

Elena  kept  her  eyes  fixed  for  a  moment  on  the 
brilliant  distance,  and  then  said:  — 

"  You  start  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dearest.  How  all  the  poor  little  flowers 
in  the  grass  are  quivering,  and  how  boldly  those 
old  fir-trees  up  there  stand !  " 

Elena  looked  at  the  green  plain,  carpeted  with 
daisies,  which  stretched  to  the  very  foot  of  the  old 
trees. 

"  At  what  time?  "  she  enquired? 

"  Early  at  dawn.  I  am  sorry  to  be  absent  from 
your  birthday  party.  You  must  make  my  excuses 
to  your  mother,  won't  you  ?  I  have  already  told  her 
that  I  am  obliged  to  go  away  on  important  business, 
but  you  must  tell  her  again.  Before  saying  any- 
thing more,  I  wish  to  make  quite  sure  that  it  is  not 
an  imposture ;  everything  is  possible !  In  any  case, 
you  will  tell  her  how  sorry  I  am  to  miss  the  party." 


THE  POLITICIAN  37 

Elena  made  a  sign  of  having  heard,  and  said :  — 

"  Write  to  me." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Cortis ;  but  — " 

She  blushed  slightly. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  you  may  be  quite  certain. 

"  And  how  much  longer  do  you  stop  here?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Mamma  wishes  to  go  away 
about  the  middle  of  July,  if  that  suits  my  uncle, 
but  we  might  have  to  start  at  any  moment  if  we 
were  called  on  account  of  the  Senate." 

"  And  then  shall  you  remain  in  Rome,  or  shall 
you  go  to  Sicily  ?  " 

"  We  did  talk  of  going  to  Aix-les-Bains,  once, 
but  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

They  both  remained  silent  and  motionless,  as  if 
the  words,  "  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  had  a  wider 
significance.  Neither  Elena  nor  Daniele  knew  any- 
thing of  the  road  in  life  which  they  had  to  follow; 
they  could  foresee  no  probable  future,  nor  any  pros- 
pect of  meeting  again  at  present.  Sicily,  Aix; 
how  dead  those  names  sounded !  The  overcast  sky, 
the  foaming  Rovese,  with  its  thundering  noise, 
seemed  ominous  of  coming  troubles.  Great  gusts 
of  winds  passed  high  above  the  heads  of  Cortis  and 
his  cousin,  who  could  not  tear  themselves  away 
from  their  quiet  asylum,  where  the  wind  was  so 
hushed  that  they  could  almost  hear  the  noise  made 
by  the  gravel  as  it  sucked  in  the  grateful  moisture 
after  the  long  drought. 

"  Think  of  me  sometimes,"  said  Cortis,  in  a  low 
voice. 


38  THE  POLITICIAN 

Elena  made  no  answer.  They  retraced  their 
steps  slowly  towards  the  house,  she  with  her  face 
turned  away,  and  her  lips  set;  he  talking  contin- 
ually, feverishly. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  a  good  friend. 
It  was  stupid  and  unkind  of  me  to  tell  you  not  to 
forget  me.  Perhaps  you  would  do  well  to  forget 
me.  I  feel  so  much  in  my  heart  that  I  cannot  say 
to  you.  How  can  I  say  good-bye  to  you,  Elena? 
But  perhaps  another  time  I  might  not  have  strength 
to  say  it.  My  life  is  becoming  a  severe  struggle. 
I  don't  yet  know  when  the  great  battle  is  coming, 
but  it  will  not  be  long  now.  I  must  not  waste  time, 
for  my  post  is  in  front,  far  in  front,  and  I  must 
fight  day  and  night  to  reach  it.  You  know  my 
ideals;  you  can  judge  whether  I  shall  suffer  for 
them  or  not !  No,  no ;  do  not  think  of  attaching 
yourself  to  me,  there  is  only  suffering  to  be  gained 
through  that.  It  is  better  to  leave  me  alone, 
Elena." 

"Is  it?"  she  asked,  raising  her  face. 

The  baroness  became,  with  Daniele  Cortis, 
more  timid  and  humble  than  she  had  been,  since 
she  was  a  little  child ;  but  at  this  moment  all 
her  natural  haughtiness  shone  in  her  eyes.  Cortis 
had  spoken  with  the  full  consciousness  of  his  su- 
perior energy,  and  suddenly  he  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  an  equal  whom  he  had  hitherto  ig- 
nored.    His  proud  eyes  opened  widely. 

"  Then  — "  he  began  with  violence. 

She  turned  very  pale,  and  placed  her  finger  on 


THE  POLITICIAN  39 

her  lips.  Cortis  was  silent,  and  regarded  her  in 
astonishment  and  sadness. 

"  You  should  not  face  your  life  alone,"  repeated 
Elena,  quietly,  with  trembling  voice.  "  You  want 
a  family  around  you.  I  know  that  mamma  has 
some  plans  for  you,  good  plans  too." 

And  indeed,  Countess  Tarquinia  had  imagined 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  marry  him  to  a 
certain  Signorina  V.,  who  was  handsome,  rich  and 
clever. 

"  M.ere  dreams,"  he  said  coldly.  "  I  shall  not 
marry." 

They  spoke  no  more  till  they  reached  the  cross- 
roads, at  which  they  were  to  part.  Elena  stopped 
first. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said ;  "  go."  Cortis'  eyes  be- 
gan to  blaze,  and  his  body  to  tremble  with  passion, 
as  it  had  a  short  time  previously,  but  she  quieted 
him  again  with  a  sign,  and  gave  him  her  hand, 
which  he  took  in  both  of  his.  Her  pale  lips  trem- 
bled a  moment  before  they  could  articulate  the 
words. 

"  Do  comfort  her." 

Daniele  did  not  answer.  She  freed  herself  from 
the  strong  hands  that  held  her,  and  moved  towards 
the  porch.  There  she  turned  once,  as  though  to 
throw  after  him  all  the  soul  that  was  in  her  eyes; 
then  she  vanished. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  IDEAS    OF  DANIELE   CORTIS 

A  little  before  midnight,  Doctor  Grigiolo  rang- 
the  bell  at  the  garden  gate  of  the  Villa  Cortis.  A 
sleepy  servant  opened  it  and  led  him  round  the  right 
wing  of  the  house  to  the  large  flight  of  stone  steps 
which  cuts  in  half  the  long  frontage. 

"  Kindly  wait  here,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  will  go 
and  call  my  master." 

"What?"  answered  Grigiolo  in  astonishment. 
"  Is  your  master  not  in  the  house?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Bless  me!     Where  is  he,  then?  " 

"  In  the  garden." 

"  At  this  hour !  There  is  no  accounting  for 
tastes!  And  I  suppose  it  will  take  you  half  an 
hour  to  find  him,  won't  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  servant,  moving  away  at 
no  great  speed. 

"  Gently,  my  friend,  not  too  fast,  you  might 
hurt  yourself,"  grumbled  Grigiolo,.  out  of  patience. 

He  looked  up  at  the  sky. 

"  That  rain  is  threatening  to  pour  down  any  in- 
stant !  " 

Sky  and  mountains,  all  was  black,  from  the  Passo 
Grande,  which  carries  on  its  ledge  the  Villa  Cor- 

40 


THE  POLITICIAN  41 

tis,  with  its  woods  and  fields,  to  Monte  Barco,  and 
the  high,  narrow  gully,  whence  issues  the  Rovese 
torrent.  At  the  top  of  the  stair,  against  the  whitish 
background  of  the  house,  a  lighted  door  shone  in 
the  darkness.  Grigiolo,  shaking  his  head,  decided 
to  go  up  to  it,  unable  to  make  up  his  mind  to  go 
and  play  hide-and-seek  in  the  garden  with  his  host, 
and  run  the  risk  of  breaking  his  head  against  a 
tree  in  the  darkness  and  bad  weather. 

He  entered  the  house.  A  lamp,  placed  upon  a 
table,  burned  in  front  of  the  door,  and  illuminated 
the  hall  from  its  pavement  to  its  huge  black  beams, 
throwing  into  relief  the  four  doors  in  the  walls,  the 
disorder  of  papers  and  books,  heaped  carelessly  on 
table,  sofa,  and  chairs,  shining  also  on  the  two 
stuffed  eagles  in  the  corners  facing  the  entrance 
with  outspread  wings.  Between  these  two  corners 
a  large  door  leading  into  the  French  garden 
stood  open.  Grigiolo  went  and  looked  out.  In 
front  of  him  was  Passo  Grande,  very  black ;  on 
his  right,  rising  above  him,  were  the  woods  which 
grow  over  the  mountain  and  valley,  and  which 
cover  peaks  and  ridges,  streams  and  pools,  with  the 
terror  of  their  gloomy  shadows. 

The  wonderful  fountain  in  the  garden,  though 
invisible  in  the  darkness,  made  its  voice  heard. 

"  Great  heavens !  "  exclaimed  Grigiolo,  turning 
back  into  the  room,  and  throwing  himself  upon  an 
uncomfortable  sofa.  "  Surely  they  are  mad !  they 
can  have  no  chance!     This  fellow  will  be  elected." 

He  was  looking  at  the  big  lamp  in  the  middle  of 


^     9f  THE 


42  THE  POLITICIAN 

the  room,  with  the"  unpleasant  knowledge  that  he 
must  wait  there,  no  one  knew  how  long,  to  say,  no 
one  knew  what,  and  finally  to  walk  a  mile  before 
reaching  his  luxurious  bed  at  Villa  Carre. 

The  steady,  bright  glare  of  the  lamp  made  him 
furious.  A  huge  dog,  with  his  tail  in  the  air, 
trotted  in  through  the  open  door  opposite  him. 

"  Here,  I  am,"  said  Cortis,  in  his  ringing  voice. 
"  Saturn,  lie  down !  " 

The  dog  curled  himself  up  at  his  feet,  and  his 
master,  turning  and  speaking  to  some  one  outside, 
said, — 

"  Bring  some  coffee." 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  he  asked,  extending  his  hand 
to  Grigiolo.     "  You  are  as  punctual  as  the  stars." 

The  young  man  bowed,  smiling.  He  expected 
some  apologies,  and  was  quite  ready  to  say,  "  pray, 
don't  mention  it,"  but  Cortis  gave  him  no  oppor- 
tunity, and  plunged  straight  into  his  business. 

"  You  would  like,"  said  he,  "  to  talk  about  this 
election.  Sit  down,  I  beg  you.  You  must  not 
mind  if  I  stand,  as  I  am  excited  and  must  walk 
about,  but  please  sit  down  yourself.  You  see  I 
never  can  talk  in  the  bosom  of  the  Constitutional  As- 
sociation, but  here  amongst  the  woods,  in  an  empty 
room,  I  will  speak  willingly  and  clearly." 

He  was  evidently  excited.  Followed  by  his  dog, 
he  walked  up  and  down  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  in  front  of  Grigiolo,  who,  seated  in  a  most 
respectful  attitude,  watched  him  open-eyed.     When 


THE  POLITICIAN  43 

he  stopped  the  tense  muscles  in  his  arms  and  legs 
quivered. 

"  You  know,  I  am  very  grateful,"  he  said,  "  to 
you  and  your  friends  for  your  assistance.  You 
support  me  because  ftiy  personal  opinions  are 
moderate,  and  also  because  my  share  in  public  af- 
fairs has  been  too  slight  to  authorize  any  one  to 
believe  me  a  friend  of  the  ministry  with  which  it 
has  pleased  Providence  to  afflict  Italy." 

He  stopped  for  a  moment,  looking  at  Grigiolo 
with  an  amused  and  sarcastic  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"  However,  I  am  not  a  moderate,"  he  said. 

"  Not  even  that  ?  "  exclaimed  Grigiolo,  candidly. 

"  How,  not  even  that? " 

Grigiolo  bit  his  lips.  He  had  thought  to  him- 
self: "  What  can  I  do  with  a  lunatic  like  this,  who 
is  not  even  a  moderate?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered,  "  I  was  going  to  say 
— "  but  Cortis  interrupted  him,  indifferent  as 
to  what  he  would  say. 

"  But  nevertheless  I  find  myself  quite  in  a  posi- 
tion to  be  able  to  accept  honestly  the  support  of  the 
Association,"  he  said. 

"  That's  encouraging,"  thought  Grigiolo. 

"  You  must  understand,"  continued  Cortis,  "  that 
I  recognize  the  fact  that  if  I  wish  to  succeed  in 
politics,  and  as  I  do  not  possess  the  hypocritical 
vanity  which  is  called  modesty,  I  must  work  for 
myself  as  every  honest  citizen  may  legitimatel}^  do; 
and  that  I  do  not  consider  that  the  support  of  a  few 


44  THE  POLITICIAN 

gentleman  at  a  distance,  while  it  cheers  my  heart, 
is  of  very  much  practical  utility  to  my  cause." 

Doctor  Grigiolo  rose  somewhat  piqued. 

"Oh,"  he  ejaculated,  "if  you  fancy — " 

"  No,  no,  no,"  interrupted  Cortis,  "  sit  down 
again,  please.     Now  let  us  have  some  coffee." 

The  servant  was  just  coming  into  the  room  with 
a  tray,  on  which  were  two  large  cups. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Grigiolo,  frightened  at  their 
size.  "  I  never  drink  coffee  at  night.  I  should 
not  sleep."  * 

"  That's  just  what  it's  for  —  to  keep  you  from 
sleeping!  " 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  would  rather  not  — " 

Cortis  sent  away  his  servant,  poured  himself  out 
a  large  cup-full  of  coffee,  and  began  to  talk,  holding 
his  cup  in  his  right  hand  and  his  saucer  in  his  left. 

"  I  am  not  casting  a  slur  on  you,  in  saying  this. 
I  think  it  is  very  humiliating,  that  in  order  to  get 
into  political  life,  one  has  to  sneak  through  such 
low  doors  to  the  patriotic  and  political  wisdom  of 
the  electorate.  I  praise  you  for  not  being  able  or 
willing  to  speak  the  only  language  that  those  elec- 
tors understand.  As  for  me,  who  have  had  to  ac- 
quire the  understanding  of  political  intrigues  in 
order  to  please  my  constituents,  omnia  prcoccpi 
afque  aninio  mecum  ante  pcregi." 

Cortis  lifted  his  cup  to  his  lips,  keeping  his  burn- 
ing eyes  on  Grigiolo. 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  he  continued,  "  to  have 
recourse    to    dishonest    means    or    baseness.     One 


THE  POLITICIAN  45 

need  not  spend  money,  or  distribute  cockades,  like 
my  opponent,  but  it  is  necessary  to  have  an  inti- 
mate -knowledge  of  the  local  requirements  of  the 
constituency.  I  know  them  in  all  the  communes, 
and  the  chief  electors  are  aware  of  this  fact,  and 
because  they  know  that  to-day  I  have  some  power- 
ful supporters,  they  guess,  being  shrewd,  that  to- 
morrow I  shall  myself  be  of  importance.  Besides, 
there  is — "  (Cortis  here  named  an  influential  per- 
son among  the  electors)  "  who  has  hitherto  been 
able  to  squeeze  everyone  like  lemons,  and  he  fancies 
that  he  can  squeeze  me  too." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  "  exclaimed  Grigiolo  amazed. 
"  Then  we  are  sitting  on  a  fence  and  don't  know 
which  side  we  may  fall." 

"  Exactly  so,  my  dear  fellow,  and  the  reason  I 
do  not  draw  up  a  programme  which  would  secure 
the  approval  of  the  Constitutional  Association  is, 
that  if  I  did,  that  particular  man  would  desert  me. 
I  don't  intend  to  draw^  up  a  programme.  I  intend 
to  stand  upon  my  own  platform,  and  not  to  put  my 
views  in  competition.     There  you  have  it !  " 

He  began  to  sip  his  coffee  very  slowly.  Grigiolo 
cast  a  furtive  glance  at  the  clock,  as  though  to  hint 
that  they  ought  to  finish  their  business  quickly. 

Cortis  raised  his  head  from  his  cup  and  asked 
quietly :  — 

"  Are  you  a  Catholic?" 

Grigiolo  started. 

"I?"  he  answered.     "But—" 

Cortis  emptied  his  cup,  put  it  down,  and  recom- 


46  THE  POLITICIAN 

menced  his  remarks  with  the  same  emphatic  voice. 

"  To  my  voters  I  am  the  Deputy  Cortis ;  to  you 
people  I  am  Daniele  Cortis,  who  has  written  upon 
bi-metahsm  and  the  increase  in  the  number  of 
banks ;  and  I  am  also  the  provincial  Councillor  Cor- 
tis, who  voted  with  your  friends  when  an  attempt 
was  made  to  introduce  politics  into  the  nomination 
of  our  president.  That  should  be  enough  for  them. 
I  will  draw  up  no  programme;  my  time  is  not  yet 
come.  Did  you  notice  what  those  four  chatter- 
boxes said  this  evening?  They  do  not  know  me? 
They  do  not  know  my  ideas?  But  I  shall  get 
their  votes  all  the  same,  do  not  worry.  I  shall  ask 
for  support  on  •the  ground  that  I  am  at  least  a 
gentleman,  while  my  opponent  is  a  rascal;  but  they 
must  expect  me  to  have  my  own  opinions.  I  say 
to  you  again  honestly,  if  I  refuse  to  shake  publicly 
adherence  to  the  ideas  of  the  Constitutional  Asso- 
ciation, it  is  not  because  I  wish  to  retain  the  sup- 
port of  one  powerful  individual,  it  is  simply  be- 
cause those  ideas  do  not  coincide  with  mine." 

"  Who  knows  what  kind  of  ideas  this  man  has  ?  " 
thought  Grigiolo ;  "  who  can  tell  what  sort  of  a 
deputy  he  will  make?  " 

It  occurred  to  him  that  his  friends  of  the  Asso- 
ciation might  be  annoyed  with  him  for  not  ap- 
preciating at  its  proper  value  the  importance  of  this 
interview  with  Cortis,  and  for  not  forcing  him  to 
speak  out  more  clearly. 

"  Listen,"  said  he,  "  are  these  views  of  yours 
in  reality  very  far  removed  from — ?  " 


THE  POLITICIAN  47 

"  Truly,  my  friend,"  answered  Cortis,  in  a  low 
voice,  frowning  and  standing  with  his  arms  folded 
across  his  breast. 

"  Wait,"  he  said. 

He  pulled  the  bell  which  hung  near  the  sofa 
violently.  It  rang  through  the  quiet  house. 
Saturn  rushed  to  the  door,  and  barked  at  the  night. 

"  What  the  devil  is  he  going  to  do  now !  "  won- 
dered Grigiolo. 

The  servant  appeared. 

"  Place  a  table  in  front  of  that  gentleman," 
said  Cortis,  "  then  bring  pens,  ink,  paper  and  can- 
dles immediately." 

"  But,"  observed  Grigiolo,  again  looking  at  the 
clock,  "  it  is  half-past  twelve." 

"  I  shall  not  speak  all  night,"  remarked  the  other 
drilv. 

"  Very  well,  if  you  like  it ;  but  — " 

"  Two  candles,  pen  and  ink,"  said  Cortis  to  the 
servant,  as  he  approached  with  the  table. 

Grigiolo  was  dumbfounded.  The  servant,  grave 
as  a  minister,  brought  all  that  was  required,  lighted 
the  candles  and  departed  at  a  sign  from  his  mas- 
ter. 

"  I  have  to  write  a  political  letter  to-night."  said 
Cortis ;  "  but  it  is  private,  you  know.  I  make  you 
my  secretary.     How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"  Twenty-seven." 

"  I  am  thirty-two.     That  will  do.     Write  — " 

'"'' '  Dear  Friend  ' — This  friend  is  an  ex-deputy  of 
the  Right,  a  learned  man,  stuffed  full  of  quotations, 


48  THE  POLITICIAN 

who  cannot  move  now  because  he  has  swallowed  so 
many  books.  He  has  offered  me  the  public  sup- 
port of  the  Central  Constitutional  Association." 

Grigiolo  wrote  obediently,  looked  up,  and  re- 
peated, "  Dear  Friend." 

"  '  I  thank  you,'  "  continued  Cortis,  dictating, 
"  '  but  as  I  consider  my  success  assured  — '  " 

'*  Oh,"  murmured  Grigiolo,  as  he  wrote,  "  I  un- 
derstand. He  has  the  president  of  the  association 
on  his  side.     '  Assured. '  " 

Cortis  raised  his  voice: 

"' — Even  without  external  influences — (exr 
cuse  the  remark,  Grigiolo)  it  is  not  necessary 
that  the  Central  Association  should  take  any  steps 
on  behalf  of  a  thinker  who  is  free  from  its  teach- 
ings and  ideas.'     Have  you  written  that?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Period.  '  I  must  add  that,  in  entering  the  Ital- 
ian Chamber  of  Deputies,  I  shall  not  expect,  as  so 
many  of  you  do,  oh,  my  chimerical  friends,  to  find 
myself  in  the  House  of  Commons  — '  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  interrupted  Grigiolo. 

"  '  In  the  House  of  Commons  —  to  find  my- 
self in  the  House  of  Commons,  seated  on  a  bench 
that  has  lasted  six  hundred  years.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  the  English  constitutional  doctrines  are 
adapted  to  the  Chamber.  I  do  not  believe  in  the 
advantage  of  your  parliamentary  despotism,  what- 
ever be  the  colour  of  the  majority.  Ovid  might 
perhaps  justify  the  rapid  metamorphosis  which  has 
been  imposed  upon  the  country,  but  it  would  be  a 


THE  POLITICIAN  49 

more  difficult  task  to  justify  it  by  the  light  of  ex- 
perience.    If  God — '" 

"Slowly!"  exclaimed  Grigiolo,  breathlessly 
writing.     "What  next?" 

"  I  don't  quite  know.  Go  on.  *  If  God  will  for- 
give the  Prime  Minister  for  not  having  conciliated 
the  ministerial  party,  or  the  others  for  having  pre- 
vented such  conciliation,  it  will  perhaps  be  be- 
cause — '  " 

"  Because,"  repeated  Grigiolo,  waiting,  pen  in 
air. 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  know,"  answered  Cor- 
tis.  "  Put  it  thus :  '  Because  in  the  entire  House 
of  Parliament  there  was  heard  no  voice  summoning 
a  valiant  man  to  raise  royal  authority  again  in  the 
name  of  the  country,  or  to  assemble  the  whole  na- 
tion around  the  Palatine.'  " 

"  The  Ouirinal,  you  mean?  " 

"  Yes,  you  are  right ;  the  Quirinal.  It  would 
need  a  man  with  the  great  ideas  of  the  September 
conquerors  to  shut  up  the  king  in  a  house  of  priests. 
Go  on  writing :  *  If  one  believes  that  the  monarchy 
is  only  fit  to  give  balls  and  dinners,  and  to  decorate 
our  every-day  faces  with  a  dash  of  chivalrous  senti- 
mentality, I  don't  care  to  suffer  on  its  behalf.  But 
I,  my  dear  friend,  think  it  is  still  good  for  some- 
thing more  than  that.  I  believe  it  can  finish  the 
lesson  in  geography  that  Victor  Emanuel  gave  Eu- 
rope; I  believe,  above  all,  that  it  can  inaugurate 
with  that  other  monarchy,  an  ecclesiastical  mon- 
archy a  policy  of  common  sense,  which  will  give 


50  THE  POLITICIAN 

some  prospect  of  permanency ;  a  policy  which,  with- 
out placing  the  State  below  the  Church  for  an  in- 
stant, shall  yet  give  religion  force  enough  to  startle 
the  world  with  our  social  reforms.'  " 

"  Gently,"  cried  Grigiolo,  writing  furiously. 

"  '  I  should  mind  very  little,'  "  continued  Cor- 
tis,  his  words  and  his  face  both  getting  hotter, 
"  '  being  called  a  clerical,  or  having  the  whole  pack 
of  radicals  and  doctrinaries  at  my  heels  — '  " 

"  Gently,  for  heaven's  sake,"  groaned  the  secre- 
tary, exhausted.     But  Cortis  took  no  notice. 

"  '  I  would  like  to  make  my  country  solid  and 
x/"  powerful,  and  obtain  for  it  the  honour  of  leading 
the  way  in  a  well-organized  social  revolution.  But 
to  obtain  this  we  must  have  neither  political  super- 
stitions nor  religious  scepticism,  nor  scientific  big- 
otry, nor  — '  " 

Cortis  in  finishing  raised  his  voice  to  such  a 
pitch,  that  his  dog  jumped  up  and  watched  him 
angrily. 

Grigiolo  threw  down  his  pen. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  exclaimed,  *'  how  do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  follow  you?" 

He  could  stand  it  no  longer. 

Cortis  dried  his  forehead  without  a  word,  and, 
seating  himself  on  the  sofa,  read  his  letter  right 
through  down  to  where  it  was  broken  off.  That 
phrase  he  concluded  thus,  "  nor  trembling  hearts." 

"  I  will  write  all  this,"  observed  honest  Grigiolo, 
"  but  you  know  I  couldn't  sign  a  word  of  it." 

"  Naturally,"    answered    Cortis    with    a    laugh. 


THE  POLITICIAN  51 

"  There  are  many  people  in  Italy  who  would  be 
glad  of  a  chance  to  enunciate  these  ideas  without 
having  to  sign  them.  We  will  find  one  man  who 
will  sign  for  them  all.     Shall  we  finish  ?  " 

"  Gladly." 

"  Then  write :  '  You  will  easily  believe  that 
these  notions  of  mine  are  not  likely  to  attract  the 
priests  in  my  division.  Four-fifths  of  them  are 
openly  fighting  against  me,  and  the  remaining  fifth 
is  standing  aloof  and  looking  on.'  " 

"  That  is  true,"  remarked  the  secretary,  writing. 

'•  They  know  that  I  have  always  regarded  them 
RL  the  blind  and  ignorant  men,  which  they  are ;  and 
they  know  that  I,  a  Catholic — " 

"  Suppose  this  letter  ever  gets  into  print?  "  said 
Grigiolo  as  he  was  writing. 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  should  mind  that?  I  will 
say  it  in  the  Chamber,  coram  hominihiis.  I  want 
to  meet  face  to  face  those  bold  thinkers  who  laugh 
at  me.  Go  on  writing.  'They  know  that  I,  a 
Catholic,  if  ever  I  were  to  become  a  minister,  would 
be  capable  of  forcing  them  to  study  something  more 
than  the  Summa  contragcntcs.'  Will  you  kindly 
read  it  over?  " 

Grigiolo  read  the  letter  over  again. 

"  I  will  write  the  ending  myself,"  he  remarked. 
"  Well,  what  do  you  think  about  it?  " 

"Very  worthy  ideas,"  answered  the  secretary; 
"  but  how  can  they  possibly  be  carried  out  while  we 
are  in  the  state  of  transition  in  which  we  are  living 
to-day  ?  " 


52  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  There's  the  rub,"  answered  the  other.  "  We 
are  far  from  realisation,  are  we  not?  " 

Grigiolo  rose  from  his  chair. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  far  from  it;  and  I  have  a 
twenty-minutes'  walk  before  I  get  to  my  bed." 

"  You  are  right ;  I  have  been  veiy  thoughtless." 

"Oh!" 

"  Now,  I  will  send  someone  home  with  you." 

"  No,  thank  you,  it  is  really  not  necessary." 

Cortis  rang  the  bell. 

"How  is  the  weather?"  he  asked,  ordering  the 
servant  to  light  a  lantern,  while  he  accompanied 
Grigiolo  on  the  porch.  The  white  front,  the  white 
wings  of  the  villa  shone  and  disappeared  again 
every  .moment,  but  no  thunder  was  audible. 

"  Sleep  here,"  said  Cortis,  "  unless  you  have  any 
scruples  against  passing  the  night  under  my  roof  ?  " 

Grigiolo  thanked  him  and  protested  against  his 
last  speech.  He  really  could  not  stay.  He  was 
not  afraid  of  the  weather,  and  besides,  he  did  not 
think  it  was  going  to  rain. 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  said,  "  do  you  start  to-mor- 
row?" 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  Whatever  the  weather  may  be  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

They  were  both  silent.  Behind  them,  in  the 
room,  the  lamps  were  dying  out  and  beginning  to 
smoke.  From  the  window  they  could  see  the  sil- 
very jet  of  the  fountain  and  the  white  gravel. 

The  servant  brought  the  lantern. 


THE  POLITICIAN  53 

"  And  so  — "  began  Grigiolo. 

The  other  interrupted  him :  "  I  will  come  part  of 
the  way  with  you,"  said  he,  and  he  seized  his  arm 
and  dragged  him  down  the  steps,  without  giving 
him  any  chance  of  preventing  him. 

"  You  consider  me  a  conservative?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know ;  to  a  certain  extent  it  seems 
to  me  that  you  are." 

"  And  you  will  tell  your  friends  so,  naturally ; 
you  will  tell  them,  won't  you,  that  I  am  one  of  this 
new  growth  of  fungi  ?  But  tell  them  also  to  wait 
before  they  judge  me." 

He  was  silent  for  a  while,  then  started  impetu- 
ously to  speak,  but  stopping  himself  he  said  only :  — 

"  Let  them  wait !  " 

He  went  on  a  few  steps  and  then  halted  sud- 
denly. 

"  Great  God !  "  he  said,  "  is  there  nothing  left 
that  our  poor  Italy  can  teach  the  world?  Has 
Providence  raised  her  from  the  dead  merely  in  or- 
der to  make  a  bad  democracy,  and  a  bad  literature 
which  will  shortly  ruin  each  other?  " 

"  Let  us  not  speak  of  it  any  more,"  answered 
Grigiolo. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  continued  Cortis,  *'  that  if  it 
were  so,  the  idea  of  going  into  Parliament  would 
ever  have  entered  my  head  ?  If  you  knew  the  state 
of  my  mind  you  would  not  think  that.  Tell  your 
friends  that  if  I  am  to  be  found  amongst  the  ranks 
of  a  conservative  party,  I  am  a  motive  power  too ! 
Good-bye." 


54  THE  POLITICIAN 

With  a  rapid  gesture  of  farewell  he  left  him,  and 
disappeared  in  tlie  darkness.  Grigiolo  remained 
standing,  almost  petrified,  until  Saturn,  who  had 
been  running  on  in  front,  suddenly  passed  him  at 
a  distance  and  overtook  his  master. 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,"  thought  Grigiolo,  "  but  I 
think  he  is  mad !  " 


CHAPTER  IV 

AMONG  THE  ROSES 

The  little  church  of  Villa  Carre,  hidden  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  garden  between  the  railings  and  a  group 
of  firs,  had  apparently  never  ceased  from  ringing  its 
bells  during  the  entire  night  of  the  29th  of  June. 
The  day  came,  the  sun  came,  the  merry  north  wind 
came  and  rustled  the  leaves  of  the  poplars  along  the 
high  road,  and  whispered  to  the  roses  which  climbed 
everywhere,  even  along  the  iron  supports  of  the 
awning  outside  Elena's  window ;  and  the  bells  were 
still  ringing.  Elena,  who  had  fallen  asleep  just  be- 
fore dawn,  was  aroused  by  the  noise,  and  lifted  her 
head  from  the  pillow.  Had  somebody  rung  the 
door  bell  and  brought  her  a  letter  from  Daniele? 
Had  it  been  placed  there  on  the  dressing  table  ? 
No,  on  tHe  table  her  rings  and  her  bracelets  were 
scattered,  and  her  volume  of  Chateaubriand  lay 
open.  A  dream,  a  dream :  it  must  have  been  a 
dream.  She  rose  and  opened  the  window  and  let  in 
the  sweet  air  of  the  trees  and  of  the  mountains.  On 
her  white  bed,  on  the  light  walls  of  her  room,  which 
was  enclosed  like  a  nightingale's  nest  in  a  corner 
of  the  villa  almost  hidden  by  roses  and  jasmine,  she 
could  see  the  reflection  of  the  blue  sky  and  the  pure 
light  of  the  dawn.     "  Holiday,  holiday,"  sang  the 

55 


56  THE  POLITICIAN 

bells.  Elena  felt  a  great  wish  to  cry.  She  was  al- 
ways thus  when  she  first  woke,  then  her  heart  shut 
the  door  upon  her  passion  and  kept  it  a  prisoner  till 
the  evening,  except  that  sometimes,  finding  herself 
alone,  she  descended  into  the  depths  of  her  soul,  and 
delighted  to  feel  in  herself  a  flame  of  possession  and 
of  life. 

She  dressed  herself,  alone  and  hastily.  Her  lit- 
tle room  was  like  sweet  music;  too  sweet!  The 
scent  of  roses  was  too  luxurious,  their  exquisite 
beauty  was  too  delicate.  She  suffered  there,  and 
her  mind  lost  all  its  vigor;  one  must  be  happy  to 
dwell  in  such  a  nest,  one  must  not  have  thoughts  in 
one's  mind,  such  as  she  had,  which  accorded  ill  with 
the  beautiful  surroundings.  Elena  looked  for  a 
minute  out  of  the  window,  through  the  leaves  of  the 
roses  blown  about  by  the  wind.  The  tops  of  the 
mountains  were  red;  a  bluish  shadow  covered  the 
fields,  the  shrubs,  and  the  paths  of  the  gardens, 
which  some  laborers  were  raking.  She  thought 
that  this  was  the  third  day  since  Cortis's  departure, 
and  perhaps  she  might  receive  a  letter. 

Ah!  ought  she  to  wish  for  a  letter?  She  had 
loved  him  in  secret  for  how  long!  But  there  had 
been  a  time  when  she  did  not  wish  him  to  think  of 
her.  A  friendly  glance,  a  kind  word,  any  token  of 
kindness  were  enough  for  her.  And  on  her  side 
she  only  wished  to  show  him  quiet  friendliness ;  lov- 
ing and  suffering  silence,  with  the  passionate  hope 
of  being  able  to  do  something  for  him  some  day, 
she    knew    not    what;    of    being    able    to    do    a 


THE  POLITICIAN  57 

little  good  in  the  world  by  that  means.  Other- 
wise, childless  as  she  was,  divided  in  her  soul 
from  her  husband,  she  should  go  through  life  like  a 
shadow,  here  and  there  comforting  some  sorrow 
perhaps,  but  finally  bringing  to  God,  like  the  serv- 
ant in  the  gospel,  many  useless  treasures  laid  upon 
her  heart. 

But  now  that  she  knew  that  she  was  loved,  and 
she  could  not  doubt  that  she  had  been  understood 
by  him,  her  whole  soul  was  in  a  state  of  restlessness, 
full  of  doubt  and  torment. 

She  turned  from  the  window  and  seized  the  book 
lying  on  her  table.  It  was  the  third  volume  of 
Chateaubriand's  "  Memoires  d  outre  Tombe,"  and 
had  been  lent  to  her  by  Cortis.  The  latter  had  told 
her  that,  as  a  boy,  he  had  conceived  a  violent  passion 
for  Lucile  Chateaubriand,  Comtesse  de  Caud;  and 
now,  with  jealous  anxiety,  she  searched  the  memoirs 
of  the  great  poet  for  every  word  that  might  recall 
the  figure  of  his  sister.  She  sought  to  reconstruct 
from  them  that  beauty  full  of  sadness,  that 
spirit  full  of  mystery  and  genius,  which  considered 
itself  superfluous  upon  the  earth,  and  which  was  so 
difficult  to  know,  "  tant  il  y  a  de  divers  pensees  dans 
ma  tete,"  as  she  herself  wrote  to  Chateaubriand, 
"  tant  ma  timidite  et  mon  espece  de  faiblesse 
exterieure  sont  en  opposition  avec  ma  force  in- 
terieure." 

The  volume  was  open  at  the  beginning  of  the 
third  book,  in  which  is  described  the  retirement  of 
Madame  de  Caud  to  the  Convent  of  the   Dames 


58  THE  POLITICIAN 

Saint  Michel  in  Paris,  and  in  which  are  enshrined 
Hke  rehcs,  the  last  letters  she  wrote  to  her  brother. 
Elena,  the  night  before,  had  reached  this  passage  in 
an  undated  letter. 

"Quelle  pitie  que  I'attention  que  je  me  porte! 
Dieu  ne  pent  plus  m'affliger  qu'en  toi.  Je  le  remer- 
cie  du  precieux,  bon  et  cher  present  qu'il  m'a  fait 
en  ta  personne  et  d'avoir  conserve  ma  vie  sans 
tache;  vbila  tons  mes  tresors.  Je  pourrais  prendre 
pour  embleme  de  ma  vie  la  lune  dans  un  nuage, 
avec  cette  devise: — soiwent  obscurcie,  jamais 
ternie." 

Elena  had  stopped  reading  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
at  this  point.  Had  the  brother  whom  Lucile  called 
the  best  part  of  herself  and  a  gift  of  God,  never 
been  a  danger  to  her?  As  she  read  on  in  this 
state  of  mind  she  came  to  the  description  of  Romeo, 
where,  in  the  forest  of  Combourg,  she  lived  only  in 
his  heart,  and  oppressed  by  unconquerable  sadness, 
translated  with  him  the  Toedet  animum  ineam  vitcc 
mca  of  Job,  or  wrote  those  short  prose  lyrics  to 
the  dawn  and  to  the  moon,  so  melancholy  and  so 
sw^eet  in  their  design,  so  softly  musical  in  their  ex- 
pression. As  Elena  read  the  letter,  she  put  her- 
self in  the  place  of  the  writer;  she  herself  was  speak- 
ing to  Daniele. 

She  began  to  read  again,  but  her  head  was  hot 
and  excited,  her  heart  so  oppressed  down  that  she 
could  not  continue.  She  felt  that  she  must  have 
air  and  movement.  S.he  took  up  the  volume  and 
passed  through  the  anteroom  that  smelled  of  cigars, 
walking  on  tiptoe  in  order  not  to  wake  the  baron. 


THE  POLITICIAN  59 

who  was  sleeping  noisily  in  the  room  next  to  her 
own,  with  his  door  open. 

She  descended  into  the  garden  and  followed  the 
path  which  lead  by  the  evergreen  shrubs,  to  the  lit- 
tle church  of  Saint  Peter,  and  to  the  gate  which 
opened  on   the  high  road.     She  met  a  messenger 
with  a  telegram   for  the   Baron  Senator  di   Santa 
Giulia;   and   telling   him  to   take   it   without  delay 
to  her  husband,  she  passed  through  the  gate,  turned 
to  the  right,  and  walked  along  the  road,  bordered 
by  poplars,  which  led  to  the  poor  cottages  of  Passo 
di  Rovese  and  the  river.     She  thought  of  Lugano, 
in  which  she  had  once  spent  two  days  some  years 
before.     She  saw  a  sheet  of  blue  water,  a  long  row 
of  white,  yellow  and  grey  houses,  a  crown  of  hills 
green  up  to  their  very  summit.     Where  was  Dan- 
iele?     Her  fancy  pictured  him  in  a  different  place 
every   moment.     Now   he   was   at    his   window    in 
the  Hotel  du   Pare :  now  in  a  somewhat  gloomy 
villa  on  the  lake  which  she   remembered,  or  per- 
haps he  was  in  that  red  and  yellow  villa  up  on  the 
hill.     And  she  also  pictured  to  herself  the  person 
with  him,  first  in  one  aspect,  then  another,  some- 
times deserving  pity,  and  sometimes  repulsive;  al- 
ways an  old  woman  with  all   the  appearances  of 
grief,   whether   real  or   false.     Daniele   must   have 
had  his  first  meeting  with  his  mother  two  days  ago. 
Another  day  could  not  pass  without  a  letter  from 
him.     The  post   did   not  come  in  until   the  even- 
ing. 

"  Twelve  hours  more!  "  thought  Elena,  stopping 
on  the  little  wooden  bridge  to  watch  the  shadowy 


6o  THE  POLITICIAN 

waters  of  the  Rovese,  and  to  drink  in  the  health- 
giving  air  which  bore  with  it  the  scent  of  the  Al- 
pine meadows  and  the  fir  trees.  The  owner  of  the 
neighbouring  hydraulic  sawmill  passed  and  took  off 
his  hat  to  the  "  little  countess,"  as  she  was  still 
called  everywhere  in  the  neighbourhood.  She  kept 
him  in  conversation,  and  half  seriously,  half  laugh- 
ingly, led  him  on  to  talk  of  the  elections.  The 
man,  an  influential  elector,  had  been  criticised  by 
the  Baron  of  Santa  Giulia,  and  his  mysterious  an- 
swers, combined  with  his  cunning  smile,  at  first 
troubled  Elena.  However,  she  soon  penetrated  his 
secret,  and  dispersed  all  the  baron's  electoral  cob- 
webs. She  told  him  with  a  smile,  that  in  politics 
she  and  her  husband  disagreed,  and  added,  that 
Count  Lao  was  very  anxious  for  the  success  of  Cor- 
tis.  That  was  an  important  consideration,  as  the 
Carre  family  voluntarily  paid  half  of  the  cost  of 
the  maintenance  of  the  bridge  on  which  they  were 
standing  and  which  had  been  made  by  the  owner 
of  the  sawmill.  The  latter,  contrite,  promised  that 
he  would  vote  for  Signor  Daniele,  "  now  that  you 
put  it  to  me  in  that  light !  "  and  with  a  profound 
sweep  of  his  hat,  he  passed  on  his  way. 

Elena  walked  along  the^left  bank  of  the  Rovese, 
among  the  alders  that  hid  the  river  from  the  mead- 
ows. Here  the  thick  wood  was  bathed  in  the  river ; 
further  on,  a  grassy  projection  from  the  bank  stop- 
ped the  water,  which  run  slowly  round  it,  with 
whirling  current.  Here  Elena  lingered  with  her 
closed  book  in  her  hands,  and  watched  the  stream, 


THE  POLITICIAN  6i 

from  the  other  side  of  which,  she  could  see  the  old 
fir  trees  belonging  to  her  own  home.  There  was 
no  living  creature  on  the  bank  or  in  the  meadows; 
white  clouds  flew  over  the  tops  of  the  veiled  sky. 
How  sweet  it  would  be,  she  dreamed,  to  hide  her- 
self with  him  for  ever,  in  some  secluded  green  re- 
treat. "  No,"  she  muttered  half  aloud,  "  no,  no !  " 
She  continued  her  way,  with  a  sigh,  and  opening 
the  Chateaubriand  at  the  last  few  pages,  far  from 
Madame  de  Caud's  letter,  read  a  few  lines  about 
Buonaparte,  then  closed  the  book  again.  As  she 
passed  near  a  large  poplar,  she  remembered  that 
a  few  years  before  she  had  cut  upon  it  the  name 
of  a  girl-friend.  She  sought  for  it  and  found  noth- 
ing; no  trace  of  that  happy  time  was  left  to  her. 
Where  were  they  all  now,  those  mad  joys,  those 
fantastic  hopes,  those  melancholy  feelings  of  a  day, 
those  deep  sorrows  of  an  hour?  Her  friend  was 
now  living  in  some  out  of  the  way  little  town  in 
Piedmont.  She  had  lost  her  only  child  and  would 
not  be  comforted;  indeed  she  had  even  ceased  to 
answer  Elena's  letters. 

She  had  cut  her  name  there  in  the  Autumn  of 
1869,  a  few  months  after  she  had  first  known 
Cortis.  She  was  about  seventeen  at  that  time,  and 
he  nearly  twenty.  She  remembered  the  first  visit 
of  her  uncle  and  his  son,  in  the  month  of  May  of 
that  year.  It  was  only  after  her  marriage  that 
Elena  had  become  aware  that  old  Doctor  Cortis, 
who  had  for  some  time  lived  in  Piedmont,  refused 
to  return  to  Friuli,  after  his  domestic  catastrophe; 


62  THE  POLITICIAN 

and  that  he  had  been  induced  by  his  sister,  Tar- 
quinia,  to  buy  Villascura.  How  long  a  time  had 
passed  since  then,  how  many  events?  The  tumul- 
tuous current  of  the  Rovese  seemed  to  her  like  an 
echo.     It  pained  her. 

"  What  a  child  I  was !  "  thought  Elena.  Her 
cousin,  a  good  looking  young  man,  full  of  clever- 
ness and  life,  liked  to  watch  her  then,  but  she 
remembered  as  she  looked  back  now  that  she  had 
taken  no  notice  of  him,  until  some  time  later;  then 
old  Cortis  had  died  and  Daniele  had  drifted  away 
into  the  world's  stream. 

He  had  traveled  for  many  years,  had  studied 
political  economy  at  Berlin,  and  taught  it  at  Flor- 
ence, and  now,  after  seven  long  years,  he  had  re- 
turned to  Villascura,  to  carve  out  a  political  career 
for  himself.  What  years  those  had  been  for  her! 
Elena  opened  her  book  again  and  sat  down  by  the 
way  side.  She  read  a  few  lines  without  under- 
standing them,  until  finally  she  let  herself  go  with 
the  rush  of  painful  thoughts  that  assailed  her. 

Even  now  and  then  she  opened  her  heart  to  them 
in  desperation,  so  as  to  get  a  moment's  respite 
from  the  pain  of  fighting  them.  She  heard  her 
mother  introducing  to  her  Colonel  Baron  di  Santa 
Giulia,  and  saw  his  slight  bow  as  he  took  her 
hand.  Then  she  saw  herself  again  in  her  girlish 
bed,  one  long  December  night,  debating  with  her- 
self, whether  she  could  remain  in  that  house  which 
had  become  hateful  to  her,  through  certain  fancied 
evidence  of  sin,  or  whether  she  should  say  that  pain- 


THE  POLITICIAN  6z 

fill  bitter,  "  Yes."  Her  hands  grasped  the  book, 
her  eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  the  pages ;  and  forc- 
ing herself  to  read  a  few  lines  in  order  to  rid  her- 
self of  these  fancies,  she  chanced  upon  these  words : 

"  II  n'y  a  qu'un  deplaisir  auquel  je  crains  de 
mourir  difficilement,  c'est  de  heurter  en  passant, 
sans  le  vouloir,  la  destinee  de  quelque  autre." 

She  read  two  or  three  lines  further  before  she 
perceived  how  applicable  this  paragraph  was  to  her- 
self. Then  she  returned  to  it  with  avidity,  and  for- 
got herself  in  it  until  the  sun,  coming  up  between  the 
shoulders  of  the  overhanging  mountains,  shone 
upon  her  book.  She  wandered  on  and  seated  her- 
self on  a  low  wall  at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  whence 
the  road  ran  down  to  the  river,  which  displayed 
its  glittering  pebbles  and  its  bright  banks  in  the 
sunlight. 

She  felt  herself  overwhelmed  with  a  mortal  dis- 
couragement. Always  that  same  doubt,  that  same 
remorse,  that  fear  that  haunted  her  that  she  might 
hurt  him.  Although  no  word  of  love  had  passed 
between  them,  she  was  a  hindrance  and  an  im- 
pediment in  his  life !  She  laid  the  book  down  upon 
the  wall,  and  ceased  thinking,  lulled  by  the  sun  and 
the  murmur  of  the  Rovese.  After  a  time  she  took 
it  up  again,  and  hunted  slowly  through  it  with  icy 
fingers,  for  the  passage,  "  II  n'y  a  qu'un  depla- 
isir — "  Then  she  closed  it  again  hastily,  rose 
from  the  wall,  with  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  slowly 
walked  towards  the  house. 

As  she  passed  under  the  windows  of  Count  Lao. 


64  THE  POLITICIAN 

she  saw  him  making  a  sign  to  her,  from  behind 
the  panes.  She  signed  to  him  to  open  the  window, 
but  in  return  she  received  nothing  but  a  gesture 
of  horror,  and  a  finger  was  pointed  to  call  her  at- 
tention to  the  wind  which  was  swaying  the  trees. 
Malcanton  and  Count  Perlotti  were  making  the 
round  of  the  garden  with  the  bailiff ;  giving  orders, 
taking  measurements,  and  studying  the  ground,  as 
though  they  were  about  to  fortify  the  camp  in 
presence  of  a  hostile  army.  They  had  to  decide 
where  the  band  should  be  placed,  and  where  the 
fireworks  should  be  arranged.  Malcanton  had 
been  specially  charged  to  lay  out  the  lawn-tennis 
ground  before  the  arrival  of  the  guests,  wdio  were 
expected  from  the  neighbouring  town.  As  soon 
as  he  saw  Elena  in  the  distance,  he  began  waving 
a  letter  above  his  head,  crying  out :  — 

''  Laan,  laan! " 

Elena  started  and  ran  towards  him. 

"  Has  the  mail  come?  "  she  shouted. 

"  Yes,  that  foolish  postman  thought  fit  to  keep 
the  letters  in  his  pocket  all  last  night.  There  is 
one  for  you.  The  booklet  with  the  rules,  has  ar- 
rived and  they  say  that  it  ought  to  be  pronounced 
'  laan'  as  you  said.  See,  here  it  is,  I  will  read 
it  to  you." 

While  Malcanton  was  hastily  beginning  to  read 
the  rules  for  the  game  of  lawn-tennis,  Elena  turned 
her  back  on  him. 

"  Here !  "  he  cried ;  "  Elena !  "  but  she  was  al- 


THE  POLITICIAN  65 

ready  in  the  house,  and  he,  poor  man,  grumbhng  a 
Httle,  returned  to  his  work. 

She  found  her  husband  cursing  and  raging  in 
his  shirt-sleeves,  furious  with  her  absurd  passion 
for  going  out  before  sunrise. 

Elena  did  not  wait  until  he  had  done,  but  shut 
the  door  in  his  face.  He,  however,  kicked  it  open, 
and  came  into  the  passage. 

"  I  am  not  joking,"  said  he.  "  I  have  a  very 
serious  matter  to  talk  to  you  about." 

"  Say  what  you  please,"  answered  Elena,  "  but 
not  in  that  manner." 

"  Go  in,"  replied  the  baron,  holding  the  door 
open ;  "  we  will  put  on  our  best  manners  to  please 
your  ladyship.     Will  you  kindly  come  in?" 

Elena  entered;  her  husband  closed  and  locked 
the  door  with  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  and  muttered : 
"  What  fastidiousness !  " 

"  Never  mind,"  he  added,  seeing  that  Elena 
wished  to  say  something.  "  We  must  start  to- 
night.    Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"Why?  Yes,  I  hear  perfectly.  Is  there  any- 
thing else  ?  " 

"  There  is  this,  that  we  cannot  start  as  we  are." 

Elena  seated  herself  in  an  arm-chair,  and  began 
to  read  her  Chateaubriand. 

"Damn  your  books!"  exclaimed  the  baron. 
"  Have  the  goodness  to  listen  to  me.  I  tell  you  that 
we  cannot  start  as  we  are." 

"  But  what  can  I  do,  if  I  know  nothing  and  un- 


66  THE  POLITICIAN 

derstand  nothing.     What  prevents  us  from  start- 
ing? 

"  Well !  You  spend  your  life  a  thousand  miles 
above  the  clouds.  Do  you  imagine  that  I  came 
for  my  own  pleasure  into  this  infernal  country  of 
yours,  this  land  of  rheumatism  and  ice,  where  one 
freezes  in  June,  and  where  it  rains  sixty  times  a 
day?  I  didn't  come  here  to  sleep  in  a  nut-shell  like 
this,  where  my  feet  stick  out  of  the  door.  You 
know  that,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  not  known  it  I  might  have  guessed 
it." 

"  You  need  not  be  so  discerning.  Now  I  have 
said  it." 

"  And  what  next  ?  " 

"What?—" 

The  baron  lowered  his  voice,  and  with  an  obscene 
oath,  said  that  he  had  got  nothing  that  he  had  ex- 
pected. 

"  And  this  is  what  you  want  me  for,  is  it  ?  " 
asked  Elena,  rising  and  putting  her  hand  on  the 
door-bolt. 

"For  what  other  reason  do  you  expect?" 

"  But  w  hat  have  I  to  do  with  this  money  mat- 
ter?"    ■ 

"  You  certainly  have  something  to  do  with  it. 
You  spend  the  most  of  it." 

Elena    knew    perfectly    well    the    various    secret 
means  which  the  baron  had  for  getting  rid  of  his 
money,  but  she  disdained  a  retort,  and  only  said : 
-     "And  therefore?" 


THE  POLITICIAN  ^y 

"  And  therefore,  if  that  crank  your  uncle  — " 

In  an  instant  Elena  had  rushed  into  her  room; 
but  before  she  could  close  the  door  her  husband 
followed   her   crying :  — 

"  Come  now,  what  — •" 

"  Leave  my  room,"  she  said,  turning  towards 
him. 

His  voice  dropped,  and  abashed  by  the  glittering 
eyes  that  were  fixed  upon  him,  he  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment and  finally  withdrew,  slamming  the  door  vi- 
olently behind  him. 

Elena  saw  a  letter  on  her  table  and  seized  it 
with  a  beating  heart.  It  was  from  Cortis,  dated 
from  Lugano.  She  held  it  an  instant,  then  opened 
it  and  read  :  — 

"  Dear  Elena, —  I  shall  probably  start  for  home 
to-morrow  evening,  and  pray  heaven  that  I  may 
still  find  you.  I  have  great  need  of  you.  I  will 
tell  you  all  when  we  meet.  I  am  worn  out.  As 
hitherto  my  heart  has  no  resting  place  but  you.  It 
shall  never  have  any  other. 

"  Daniele." 

She  did  not  know  how  long  she  had  remained 
standing  with  the  letter  in  her  hand,  when  her  hus- 
band entered  fastening  his  necktie. 

"What  has  happened  to  you?"  he  asked. 

She  placed  the  letter  openly  on  the  table,  and 
quite  unconcerned,  answered  quietly :  — 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me?  " 

"  What  do  I  want?     I  want  to  tell  vou  this,  that 


68  THE  POLITICIAN 

I  must  have  money,  and  that  if  I  don't,  you  will 
regret  it,  for  I  will  shut  you  up  at  Cefalu  for  ever 
and  for  ever,  and  not  all  the  powers  of  Rome,  or 
Venice  or  heaven  itself,  will  get  you  out  of  it!  " 

"How  could  you  get  the  money?" 

"  Now,  at  once,  from  your  uncle.  If  not  the 
money  itself,  I  must  get  a  little  bit  of  writing,  or 
even  a  verbal  promise.  I  am  a  good  fellow,  and 
they  know  they  can  trust  me.  It  will  do  if  the 
money  itself  reaches  me  in  Rome  in  a  week's  time. 
Do  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  your  uncle?  I  am 
going  straight  to  his  room,  and  I  shall  offer  him 
the  alternative;  either  Cefalu  or  the  money.  If  he 
cries  out,  I  will  cry  out  too." 

He  took  his  long  yellow  beard  and  pulled  it 
through  his  hands. 

Elena  studied  his  face  in  order  to  discover 
whether  he  really  meant  what  he  said,  or  whether 
he  only  planned  to  frighten  her  into  interfering. 
To  tell  the  truth,  the  baron  had  a  certain  amount 
of  military  sincerity  and  his  forehead  was  undis- 
turbed. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  she  said ;  and  she  noticed  a  look 
of  satisfaction  in  his  eyes.  "  I  will  do  it,  on  one 
condition." 

"What  condition?" 

"  That  you  do  not  say  a  word.  Do  you  hear  ? 
One  word,  and  I  will  do  nothing." 

"  I  will  not  speak." 

"To  anybody?" 

"  To  anybody." 


THE  POLITICIAN  69 

"  Now  go  and  shut  the  door." 

The  honorable  baron  had  noticed  the  letter  on 
the  table,  but  left  the  room  without  any  comment 
on  it.  He  suddenly  reappeared  at  the  door,  how- 
ever, and  said :  — 

"  You  must  ask  your  uncle  to  advance  to  you 
some  of  the  money  he  always  gives  you.  Fifteen 
thousand  lire  will  be  enough  for  the  present.  You 
may  tell  him  I  need  it  to  pay  the  last  instalment 
of  the  mortgage  upon  Cefalu,  and  you  may  add,  that 
if  I  have  to  borrow  it  elsewhere,  I  shall  take  every 
one  belonging  to  me  to  Cefalii  and  put  them  on 
half  rations.  Do  you  understand?  Either  the 
money  or  Cefalu." 

Elena  was  reading  her  letter  a  second  time,  and 
answered  without  looking  up :  — 

"  Very  Avell." 

The  door  closed ;  she  was  alone.  Then  she  laid 
down  the  letter  and  seated  herself  on  her  bed,  which 
was  not  yet  made,  and  looked  out  of  the  window 
to  the  west,  through  the  roses,  upon  a  green 
meadow  bathed  in  sunlight.  Many  thoughts  rose 
in  her  heart,  while  designs  and  plans  formed  them- 
selves slowly  in  her  brain.  Her  lips  moved  as 
though  uttering  words,  but  no  sound  came  from 
them.  At  last  she  rose,  went  to  the  window,  and, 
hidden  behind  the  roses,  she  wept. 


CHAPTER  V 

FOR  HIM,   FOR   HIM  ! 

Malcanton  and  the  Count  Perlotti  came  under 
the  window  of  Elena's  room,  and  knocked  at  Doc- 
tor Grigiolo's  closed  shutters;  he  was  sleeping  on 
the  ground  floor.  Elena  withdrew  from  the  win- 
dow, put  on  her  hat  and  gloves  and  went  to  her 
mother.  Without  any  preamble  she  announced 
that  her  departure  was  fixed  for  that  evening. 
The  countess'  thoughts  immediately  flew  to  the 
money  required  by  her  son-in-law,  and  she  was  ter- 
rified at  the  idea  of  a  scene  on  that  day  of  all 
others,  when  her  house  was  full  of  guests.  Im- 
agine what  Lao  with  his  temperament  might  do! 
She  wished  that  money  and  excitable  people  were  all 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  together.  "  And  you, 
my  child,"  she  said,  "  do  not  trouble  yourself  with 
this  matter  at  all,  as  your  uncle  will  do  everything 
you  wish." 

She  told  her  of  all  she  had  sufifered  during  the 
last  fortnight,  between  the  ill-temper  of  her  son- 
in-law  and  the  scoldings  of  her  brother-in-law. 

"  And  you  would  never  let  me  talk  to  you  about 

it." 

Elena  interrupted  her,  told  her  that  everything 

70 


THE  POLITICIAN  71 

was  settled,  and,  without  further  explanations,  beg- 
ged her  to  allow  her  maid  to  pack  her  trunks. 

"Everything  settled?  But  how?"  Countess 
Tarquinia  was  besides  herself  with  surprise,  but 
she  could  obtain  no  explanation  from  her  daughter, 
who  embraced  her,  begging  her  not  to  make  her- 
self miserable  about  it  any  more,  and  then  departed. 
The  countess  rang  her  bell  violently,  and  sent  for 
Elena  again.  She  did  not  know  where  they  were 
going,  whether  to  Rome  or  to  Aix-les-Bains. 
Elena  then  admitted  that  she  did  not  know  her- 
self. Her  husband  had  not  told  her,  and  she  had 
not  inquired.  Probably  it  would  be  Rome,  how- 
ever, because  a  telegram  had  come,  and  di  Santa 
Giulia  was  expecting  to  be  summoned  to  a  meet- 
ing of  the  Senate. 

Countess  Tarquinia  desired  more  exact  infor- 
mation, but  Elena  ran  away,  and  went  straight  to 
Count  Lao,  who,  after  arising  for  a  minute  to  look 
at  the  weather,  had  betaken  himself  again  to  bed. 
When  Elena  burst  into  his  room,  in  hat  and  gloves, 
and  said :  "  I  am  going  away,"  he  fancied  that 
she  was  on  the  point  of  starting  and  sat  up  in 
bed.  The  twelve  hours'  delay  appeared  to  him  a 
clear  gain,  for  at  least  they  could  talk  it  over. 
He  overwhelmed  his  niece  with  questions.  Could 
she  not  do  this?  Could  she  not  do  that?  Surely 
the  baron  could  go  by  himself  to  Rome,  or  even 
further.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  to  propose  to 
accompany  her  himself,  but  he  mentioned  that  fool 
of  a   Malcanton   who,   as  he   said,   was  good   for 


72  THE  POLITICIAN 

nothing  else.  When  he  saw  he  could  not  move 
her,  he  flew  into  a  passion,  turned  his  face  to  the 
wall,  buried  himself  in  the  bedclothes,  and  screamed 
to  his  niece  to  go  away,  and  at  once,  that  he  did 
not  care  a  fig  whether  she  went  to  Rome,  or  Sicily, 
or  Africa,  or  anywhere  else  she  pleased,  and  that 
she  need  be  in  no  hurry  to  return. 

But  when  Elena,  moved  by  his  mood,  approached 
the  bed  quietly  and  leaned  over  it;  the  face,  which 
was  half  hidden  between  the  pillows  and  the  sheets, 
was  moved  also. 

"Ah!"  said  Count  Lao  in  a  rough  voice,  to 
avoid  any  demonstrations  of  tenderness  or  affec- 
tion.    Elena  kissed  him  on  his  forehead. 

"  It  is  my  duty,"  she  said  softly. 

Then  she  spoke  to  him  about  the  money.  Lao 
gradually  turned  towards  her  listening  attentively. 
Elena,  laughing,  told  him  not  to  be  afraid,  and 
ordered  him  to  reply  to  her  mother,  should  she 
question  him,  simply  that  he  and  Elena  had  come 
to  an  understanding;  he  was  not  to  say  anything 
more.  Her  uncle  did  not  understand,  and  de- 
manded explanations,  but  she  only  gave  him  an- 
other kiss,  and,  excusing  herself  on  the  plea  that 
she  had  to  go  to  mass  (though  it  would  not  begin 
for  another  hour  or  more),  she  left  him. 

She  ordered  her  carriage  to  drive  to  Villascura, 
where  she  stopped  at  the  priest's  house.  He  was 
in  the  church,  but  a  pleasant  woman,  the  house- 
keeper, begged  the  "  little  countess  "  to  wait  a  mo- 
ment and  retired  discreetly,  just  as  the  priest  him- 


THE  POLITICIAN  73 

self  came  in  and  greeted  her  with  a  manner  in 
which  mingled  respect,  surprise  and  expectation. 
Elena  had  come  to  take  leave  of  him.  He  ex- 
pressed his  regrets,  which  were  perhaps  increased 
by  the  fact  that  he  had  several  times  been  the 
channel  through  which  her  secret  charities  passed. 
This  time  also  she  wanted  to  make  a  similar  use 
of  him,  but  she  also  wanted  to  be  advised  and 
assisted.  The  priest  exhausted  himself  with  thank- 
ing her  in  the  name  of  the  poor.  He  also  hoped 
to  obtain  the  support  of  the  senator  in  some  dif- 
ficulty which  had  arisen  between  him  and  the  Com- 
missioner of  the  Crown  Lands.  The  baroness  gave 
him  to  understand  that  her  husband  could  not  help 
him  much,  but  that  she  thought  that  it  was  in 
her  power  to  do  so,  and  as  she  said  good-bye,  she 
begged  him  with  a  smile  to  be  good  enough  to 
bless  the  crops  of  those  who  voted  for  Daniele 
Cortis.  The  priest  grew  very  red,  and  protested 
that  he  had  never  refused  his  blessing  from  political 
motives.  But  there  was  a  story  which  was  not 
without  foundation  in  fact,  that  he  had  refused  his 
assistance  in  keeping  the  caterpillars  off  the  cab- 
bages, belonging  to  some  of  the  supporters  of  Cortis. 
Elena  comforted  him.  Now  was  the  time,  she 
said,  to  remedy  the  evil.  The  priest  had  not  known 
Cortis  well  when  he  had  done  this;  but  now  he 
could  conscientiously  state  to  the  electors  that  Cor- 
tis was  by  no  means  an  enemy  of  religion,  quite 
the  contrary;  she  would  answer  for  him.  The 
priest  promised   to  do  what  her  ladyship  wished, 


74  THE  POLITICIAN 

even  to  adapting  his  political  convictions  to  those 
of  Countess  Tarqiiinia,  and,  with  bare  head,  he  ac- 
companied the  baroness  to  her  carriage. 

"  Villa  Cortis,"  said  Elena  to  the  coachman  as 
she  got  in. 

When  the  last  cottages  of  the  village  were  passed, 
she  saw  the  wall  surrounding  the  French  garden, 
and  above  it  the  gleaming  fountain  and  the  darkly- 
wooded  sides  of  the  hills.  Elena  was  pale  and  sad 
as  she  went  up  the  little  grass  lawn  in  front  of 
the  house,  passed  through  the  court-yard  and  turn- 
ing off  by  the  garden  railings,  disappeared  in  the 
wood.  She  lost  herself  in  the  mystery  of  the  shad- 
ows which  cast  their  silent  invitation  around,  and 
which  in  a  short  time  became  thick  and  dense, 
lying  darkly  over  the  paths  that  wind  in  and  among 
them.  Within  those  woods  are  hills  and  valleys 
perpetually  shaded;  lakes,  ponds,  and  glades,  girt 
round  by  overshadowing  trees,  and  there  may  be 
heard,  too,  the  voices  of  invisible  springs.  The 
branches  of  the  lofty  trees,  growing  around  the 
garden  gate,  suggested  with  their  waving  and  mur- 
muring in  the  wind  a  poem  of  shadow  and  life, 
and  gave  one  a  foretaste  of  the  sombre  magnificence 
beyond. 

Elena  entered  by  the  broad  path  to  the  left. 

It  might  have  been  possible  for  a  quick  ear  to 
distinguish  her  light  footfall  as  she  walked;  but 
had  any  one  followed  her  cautiously,  and  lost  sight 
of  her  after  the  first  bend  in  the  path,  he  would 
have  listened  in  vain  for  her  steps. 


THE  POLITICIAN  75 

As  she  ascended,  the  valley  opened  on  her  left, 
turning  soon  into  a  narrow  dale  through  which  a 
stream  covered  with  water-lilies  trickled;  the  grass 
grew  thickly  over  the  path,  and  overhead  the 
branches  of  acacias  on  either  side  mingled,  and 
cast  a  golden  green  shade.  Thence,  she  mounted  to 
a  natural  opening  in  the  hills,  and  there,  among 
the  trees  on  a  grassy  plateau,  stood  a  column  of 
ancient  marble,  brought  from  the  baths  of  Caracalla 
to  this  other  solitude,  and  bearing  on  its  base  two 
clasped  hands  in  relief,  and  the  following  words :  — 

""  Hyeme  et  Aestate 

Et  prope  et  Procul 

Usque  dum  vivam  et  ultra." 

Elena  returned  half  an  hour  later  still  paler. 
She  closed  the  garden  gate  behind  her,  leaning  her 
head  against  it  for  a  last  look  at  the  dear  flowers, 
and  to  say  to  them,  "  Shall  I  ever  see  you  again?  " 
The  trees  could  not  hear  her,  they  were  too  high, 
but  they  still  swayed  and  murmured  in  the  wind, 
offering  her  the  poem  of  life  and  shadow,  the  sweet 
day  dreams  of  love.  But  she  would  not  hearken 
to  them.  She  turned  away  wih  a  sigh,  and  walked 
on  with  bowed  head,  and  with  the  words  of  the 
old  column  in  her  heart:  "In  winter  and  in  sum- 
mer, from  near  and  from  far,  as  long  as  I  live, 
and  beyond  that  again." 

She  stopped  to  hear  mass  at  Villascura.  Leav- 
ing the  church  she  met  Pitantoi  and  Don  Bartolo 
conversing  pleasantly  with  the  coachman. 


^d  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Contessina,"  said  Pitantoi,  remaining  respect- 
fully in  the  background,  "  it  will  go  all  right  for 
Signor  Daniele  Cortis,  even  though  the  good  priest 
here  does  not  like  it." 

"  What,  what,  what !  "  exclaimed  Don  Bartolo, 
turning  round  quickly  and  grasping  his  knotted 
stick.  Elena  took  no  notice  of  him,  but  she  nodded 
pleasantly  to  the  other. 

"  I  rely  upon  you,"  she  said  as  the  horses  started 
at  full  speed,  covering  the  two  combatants  with 
dust. 

Countess  Tarquinia  was  in  the  garden  with  the 
Perlottis.  Malcanton,  red  and  perspiring  like  a 
porter,  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  marking  out  the 
lawn-tennis  ground,  notwithstanding  the  help  of 
the  bailiff;  Doctor  Grigiolo  was  upstairs  in  a  small 
room  preparing  fire  balloons  for  the  evening  and 
leaned  out  of  the  window  shouting,  "  Paste, 
paste!  "  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  carriage  he  rushed 
down  from  his  laboratory  and  joined  the  Perlottis 
and  Malcanton,  who  had  gone  to  meet  Elena  to 
express  their  regrets  at  her  intended  departure. 
Signora  Perlotti  said  her  husband  had  arranged 
with  the  baron  that  they  should  all  start  at  half 
past  ten,  after  the  illuminations  and  fireworks. 
Countess  Tarquinia,  guessing  what  they  were  talk- 
ing about,  began  to  exclaim,  "  No,  no,"  from  a 
distance,  and  make  gestures  of  dissent  with  her 
fan. 

"  Your  mamma  won't  hear  to  it,"  said  Signora 


Of 


THE  POLITICIAN  'jy 


Perlotti ;  "  she  is  always  so  good,  poor  dear.     But 
we  really  must  go !  " 

"  We  really  must,"  repeated  the  husband,  not- 
withstanding the  expostulations  of  Malcanton  and 
Doctor  Grigioli. 

"  I  am  selfish,"  said  Elena  smiling.  "  I  shall  be 
glad  to  start  with  you." 

They  all  turned  towards  Countess  Tarquinia, 
who,  with  her  parasol,  was  beckoning  to  them  to 
come  into  the  shade  between  the  house  and  the 
dead  cypress  tree  with  its  wreaths  of  wistaria. 
The  baron  soon  joined  them  there,  and  his  mother- 
in-law  rallied  him  in  a  friendly  manner  about  his 
sudden  flight,  and  again  begged  the  Perlottis  to 
stay  on  at  the  villa.  The  baron  looked  sulky,  as 
if  to  ask,  "What's  the  good  of  this  comedy?" 
Elena  was  silent,  and  let  her  mother  talk  on  un- 
disturbed. All  at  once  the  hall  door  opened,  and 
Count  Lao,  who  was  received  with  acclamation, 
appeared.  It  was  very  seldom  that  he  came  out 
of  his  room  so  early  in  the  day.  He  answered 
with  a  nod  —  the  surly,  "  good-morning  "  of  the 
baron,  and  quickly  gave  the  rest  of  the  party  to 
understand,  that  he  wanted  none  of  them  ex- 
cept Elena,  who  meanwhile,  found  an  opportun- 
ity of  telling  her  mother  to  press  the  Perlottis  to 
stay. 

It  was  time  for  mass,  and  all  the  group,  except 
Elena  and  her  uncle,  moved,  more  or  less  willingly, 
in  the  direction  of  the  little  church,  the  baron  go- 


78  THE  POLITICIAN 

ing  last,  and  turning  round  now  and  then  to  watch 
the  two  who  were  standing  together. 

Perlotti  asked  the  countess,  confidentially, 
whether  Lao  ever  went  to  church. 

"No!"  she  said,  "the  Carre  have  always  been 
infidels,  all  of  them.     Did  you  not  know  that?  " 

They  walked  under  the  fir  trees  a  moment  in 
silence,  then  Lao  took  his  niece's  arm. 

"  Now,  explain  all  this  to  me,"  he  said,  stopping. 

"What,  uncle?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  two  honest  eyes, 
arching  her  brows  and  smiling ;  then  she  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  yes !  "  as  if  she  had  suddenly  remembered. 

"  You  are  always  in  the  moon  and  it  takes  you 
some  time  to  travel  to  the  earth,"  said  Lao  crossly. 
"  Do  you  imagine  that  she  has  waited  all  this  time 
without  coming  to  find  out  from  me  what  the  mat- 
ter is?" 

Lao  hardly  ever  mentioned  his  sister-in-law  by 
name;  he  merely  called  her  "she." 

"And  what  did  you  answer?" 

"  I  was,  I  am,  and  I  always  shall  be,  a  fool.  I 
answered  her  as  you  wished,  that  everything  w^as 
settled  between  you  and  me,  that  that  was  enough 
for  her,  and  that  she  was  not  to  bother  me  any 
more.  You  may  tell  her  anything  you  please.  I 
don't  care  what  you  say  to  her;  but  you  must  ex- 
plain matters  to  me." 

"But  if  everything  is  settled!"  Elena  broke  in 
laughing,  "what  is  there  for  me  to  explain?  Let 
us  walk  on,  dear  uncle." 


THE  POLITICIAN  79 

She  proposed  that  they  should  take  a  turn  in 
the  garden,  and  offered  him  her  arm,  but  he  would 
not  hear  of  it.  He  continued  to  demand  explana- 
tions, and  was  quite  angry  with  her  for  being  in 
such  good  spirits. 

"Oh,  uncle!"  she  said  laying  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  and  looking  quite  gravely  at  him. 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  Lao,  recovering  his  tem- 
per ;  "  but  you  ought  to  see  that  it  is  necessary  for 
me  to  have  this  cleared  up." 

Elena  looked  at  him  for  an  instant  without  a 
word,  then,  taking  his  arm,  she  said :  — "  Come 
along,"  and  drew  him  off  towards  the  farm  house, 
a  pretty  little  house  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
villa,  its  northern  side  curiously  sheltered  by  some 
mediaeval  ruins,  and  its  eastern  side  covered  with 
creepers  and  roses  up  to  the  roof.  Elena  entered 
it  by  the  southern  door,  w^hich  led  into  the  little 
roorn  that  had  been  her  sitting  room  as  a  girl,  a 
nest  hidden  behind  vines  and  roses,  facing  the 
open  country  towards  Villascura  and  the  mountains 
of  Passo  Grande. 

"  What  in  the  world  have  you  brought  me  into 
this  box  for  ?  "  grumbled  Lao,  stopping  under  the 
doorway. 

"  Listen,  everybody,"  she  answered,  "  to  this  bear 
without  taste  or  feeling!  " 

She  drew  him  aside  on  a  little  sofa,  causing  him 
to  admire  the  view  of  the  meadows  and  mountains, 
and  her  coquettish  little  nest,  perfect  from  its  floor- 
ing of  walnut  wood,  up  to  the  gilded  dove  which 


8o  THE  POLITICIAN 

supported  in  her  beak  the  hangings  of  red  and 
white  silk,  with  which  walls  and  ceiling  were 
draped. 

''  Yes,  yes,"  growled  Lao,  "  an  old  candy  box, 
empty  and  greasy.     And  what  next?" 

"  Have  you  really  no  confidence  in  me,  uncle  ? 
Need  I  give  you  so  many  reasons  before  you  will 
do  anything  for  me?  Come  now,  don't  be  angry! 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  explain  it  all  to 
you.  Only  you  must  be  kind  to  me  during  these 
last  few  hours  that  I  have  to  spend  here." 

"  Go  on  and  keep  up  your  mysteries,"  exclaimed 
Count  Lao,   throwing  down  his  hat.     "  You  will . 
live  a  hundred  years  longer,  by  doing  so." 

"  Hush,"  said  Elena,  "  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all 
about  it.  Fine  mysteries,  indeed !  Don't  you  un- 
derstand? I  have  talked  it  over  with  my  husband 
this  morning,  and  he  will  say  no  more  about  it." 

"  Very  good.  But  why  do  I  have  to  play  this 
part?" 

Elena  tapped  the  floor  with  her  foot. 

"  How  dull  you  are,  uncle.  Can't  you  under- 
stand?" 

"  Very  dull,  indeed,"  answered  Lao.  "  I  can 
understand  nothing  at  all ;  I  am  still  waiting  for 
the  key." 

"  But  for  mamma's  sake !  You  see  my  husband 
has  always  been  to  mamma  about  these  matters, 
and  has  told  her  that  he  could  not  go  without  this 
money,  of  which  he  is  in  great  need ;  and  now  it 
seems  to  me  that  we  must  save  her  feelings,  and 


THE  POLITICIAN  8i 

in  order  to  do  that,  she  must  be  allowed  to  be- 
lieve that  everything  has  been  arranged  according 
to  his  wishes. 

"  And  he  has  made  up  his  mind  not  to  ask  for 
any  more?  " 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  tell  you." 

Count  Lao  was  silent  but  looked  at  his  niece  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  her  blush. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  at  last.  "  And  after  hav- 
ing been  to  Rome,  what  plans  have  you  ?  " 

She  did  not  like  his  breaking  off  the  conversa- 
tion so  abruptly.  She  feared  lest  he  might  be  sus- 
pecting something,  but  still  she  dared  not  clear  up 
his  doubts.  They  talked  of  what  they  would  do 
in  October  when  Elena,  according  to  her  custom, 
would  be  coming  home  for  a  month.  The  distance 
of  reserve  had  sprung  up  between  them ;  they  talked 
without  looking  at  each  other,  without  any  regret 
in  their  voices;  and,  displeased  with  each  other, 
they  soon  lapsed  into  silence. 

"  How  much  does  your  husband  require?  "  asked 
Lao  suddenly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Elena,  without  sur- 
prise, as  though  she  had  seen  from  the  first,  through 
the  thoughts  of  her  uncle.  "  He  spoke  of  about 
fifteen  thousand  lire. 

She  opened  the  drawer  of  the  little  table  stand- 
ing by  the  sofa,  and  taking  from  it  a  pencil,  she 
wrote,  under  a  line  of  dates,  "June  29th,  1891?" 
For  many  years  she  had  always  written  in  that 
drawer   the    dates   of   her   arrival    and    departure. 


82  THE  POLITICIAN 

This  time  she  added  a  note  of  interrogation,  and 
closed  the  book. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing?  "  asked  Lao, 

"  Take  a  wife,  uncle,"  she  answered. 

"Silly  child!" 

With  these  words  the  cold  and  strained  feelings 
which  had  been  holding  them  vanished.  Elena 
laughed,  took  one  of  her  uncle's  hands,  and  preached 
him  a  little  sermon,  1n  jest,  upon  the  prospect  of  an 
ideal  aunt,  a  mature  and  majestic  beauty  — 

"  Thank  you !  "  exclaimed  Count  Lao,  at  this  de- 
scription, now  quite  amused  at  the  idea,  in  spite  of 
the  "  silly  child !  "  with  which  he  had  at  first  re- 
ceived the  idea,  "  I  understand  what  you  mean. 
Many  thanks.  A  nice  burden  to  add  to  the  oth- 
ers." 

Having  joked  about  this  for  a  time,  they  returned 
arm-in-arm  to  .the  garden,  where  they  found  the 
coachman,  who  had  been  ordered  by  Baron  Santa 
Giulia  from  Villascura.  Countess  Tarquinia  could 
not  let  Elena  have  the  horses  from  the  Villa  that 
evening,  as  they  would  be  wanted  the  next  day  to 
take  her  over  to  pay  a  visit  at  a  neighbouring  coun- 
try house. 

The  count  flew  into  a  passion  on  hearing  this, 
and  declared  to  Elena  that  the  horses  belonging  to 
the  house  should  be  at  her  disposal.  He  warned 
her  not  to  say  a  word  against  his  arrangements; 
then,  turning  to  the  driver,  he  told  him  to  go  to 
Countess  Tarquinia  and  take  his  orders  respecting 
the  next  day's  visit  from  her.     At  this  moment  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  83 

countess  and  her  guests  advanced  towards  them 
from  the  church  under  the  fir  trees.  The  baron 
was  Hstening  inattentively  to  Count  Perlotti,  while 
he  watched  his  wife  and  Count  Lao  closely.  He 
had  not  yet  been  alone  with  his  mother-in-law,  and 
therefore  he  did  not  know  what  Elena  had  said 
to  her  about  the  money.  But  Elena  must  certainly 
have  talked  about  it  to  her  uncle  while  all  the 
rest  were  at  mass.  With  what  results  ?  They  both 
seemed  to  be  in  good  humor;  and  his  spirits  re- 
vived. Just  then  a  servant  came  and  announced 
the  arrival  of  a  party  of  guests  from  the  town. 

"Elena,  Elena!"  cried  her  mother,  dismayed, 
"  come  and  help  me  with  the  luncheon,  do  try  and 
be  of  some  use.  God  bless  these  people;  fancy 
coming  at  this  hour !  " 

She  hurried  forward  with  Malcanton,  Perlotti 
and  Grigiolo,  to  greet  the  new-comers.  Di  Santa 
Giulia,  in  the  confusion  succeeded  in  whispering  to 
his  wife :  — 

"  Llave  you  spoken  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  settled,"  answered  she,  hurrying  to- 
wards the  house. 

Di  Santa  Giulia  remained  alone  with  Count  Lao 
only  a  moment,  because  Elena,  on  reaching  the 
house,  turned  round  and  called  the  latter.  The 
baron  stretched  out  his  hand. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said. 

"  No  necessity,"  said  Lao  drily,  thinking  that  he 
was  being  thanked  for  the  horses;  and  he  called  to 
Elena,  "  I  am  coming." 


84  THE  POLITICIAN 

The  baron  let  him  go,  and  with  his  hat  on  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  his  beard  flying  in  the  wind, 
walked  with  long  strides  towards  the  stables,  where 
a  stack  of  umbrellas  and  parasols  denoted  the  ad- 
vent of  at  least  eight  or  ten  persons. 

Count  Lao  did  that  day  a  most  extraordinary 
thing.  He  came  to  luncheon,  although  it  had  been 
postponed  a  whole  hour  in  consequence  of  the  new 
arrivals.  These  all  talked  loudly  and  complain- 
ingly  of  Elena's  departure. 

"  By  the  way,  Countess  Tarquinia,"  said  the 
baron,  "  have  you  arranged  with  the  driver?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  in  a  cross  voice ;  "  did  not 
my  brother-in-law  tell  you  that  you  could  have  our 
horses  ?  " 

Di  Santa  Giulia  turned  his  head  slightly  to- 
wards Lao,  and  mumbled  a  few  words  of  thanks. 

"  But  how  is  this  ?  "  began  Lao,  surprised  that 
he  did  not  know  of  the  arrangement  about  the  car- 
riage; and  then  he  stopped  short.  Countess  Tar- 
quinia asked  Elena,  as  soon  as  she  had  an  oppor- 
tunity, whether  she  were  a  witch.  Everything 
seemed  settled,  and  every  one  pleased  and  satis- 
fied. She  even  managed  to  whisper  to  her  son-in- 
law,  "  You  will  be  contented  now,"  to  which  he 
answered   aloud,   "  Certainly." 

She  proposed  that  the  party  should  adjourn  to 
the  billiard-room  after  luncheon,  but  Elena  sug- 
gested that  they  should  walk  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Villa  Cortis,  and  sent  her  husband  in  her  place, 
excusing  herself  on  account  of  her  packing.     The 


THE  POLITICIAN  85 

baron  would  gladly  have  remained  behind  in  order 
to  learn  from  his  wife  what  had  really  been  the 
result  of  her  interview  with  Lao,  but,  feeling  certain 
that  it  was  good,  he  determined  to  show  himself  in 
an  amiable  light,  and  therefore  went  with  the  rest 
of  the  party.  Grigiolo  alone  remained  behind, 
in  order  to  arrange  the  supports  for  the  illumina- 
tion of  the  grounds,  the  villa  and  the  farm-house. ' 

"  Now,  explain  this  to  me,"  said  Lao  to  his 
niece  as  soon  as  the  party  had  started. 

"What?" 

"  Your  husband  came  up  to  me  after  church  this 
morning  and  thanked  me  as  warmly  as  though  I 
had  saved  his  life,  which  I  certainly  would  not 
do." 

"Uncle!" 

"  No,  I  certainly  would  not !  But  I  want  to  know 
the  reason  for  this  gratitude." 

"  For  ordering  the  horses,  perhaps." 

"  The  horses !  nonsense,  he  knew  nothing  about 
them  then.  Did  you  not  hear  what  passed  at 
luncheon  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  perhaps  it  was  for  the  hospitality 
you  have  shown  him  during  these  three  weeks." 

The  uncle  was  silent  and  looked  at  Elena  as  he 
had  looked  at  her  in  her  little  sitting-room  in  the 
farm-house.  She  did  not  blush  this  time,  but  pre- 
tended indifference.  She  remained  talking  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  said  that  she  must  go  up- 
stairs to  see  about  her  trunks. 

"  Has  he  not  returned  yet  ?  "  asked  the  count. 


86  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  answered  Elena,  with  a 
trembhng  voice. 

"  I  wonder  how  this  election  will  go?"  said  the 
count. 

Elena  went  up  the  stairs  slowly  without  answer- 
ing. As  the  hour  of  her  departure  grew  nearer, 
she  felt  more  clearly  how  difficult  it  was  to  talk  of 
him,  or  to  restrain  her  own  feelings. 

She  hastily  finished  her  packing  with  the  help  of 
her  mother's  maid,  and  then  went  out  to  say  good- 
bye to  the  bailiff's  wife  and  to  two  or  three  other 
peasants.  As  she  was  coming  back  to  the  house, 
her  uncle  called  to  her  from  the  window,  and  begged 
her  to  come  up  to  him. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  "  do  you  need  any  money?  " 

On  hearing  from  Elena  that  she  did  not,  he 
insisted,  begging  her  to  speak  clearly  and  to  ask 
him  if  she  wanted  anything  for  herself.  After 
all,  everything  that  he  possessed  would  be  hers  one 
day  or  the  other.  Elena  hesitated  a  minute,  and 
then  refused.     Lao  said  no  more  about  it. 

"  Let  us  say  good-bye  now,"  he  continued,  press- 
ing her  to  his  heart.  "  This  evening,  with  so  many 
tiresome  people  about,  I  shall  not  have  an  instant 
alone  with  you.  And  remember  this,  no  matter 
when,  where  or  what  you  want  of  me,  I  will  do  it 
for  your  sake,  and  also,"  he  kissed  her  forehead, 
"  for  your  father's,"  he  added,  raising  his  voice. 

Elena  looked  at  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and 
grasped  his  hands  tightly.  Her  father  and  Count 
Lao  had  been  brothers,  but  not  friends;  that  was 


THE  POLITICIAN  87 

one  of  the  reasons  why  the  latter  had  lived  away 
from  his  own  country  for  so  long.  His  health 
having  broken  down  and  his  brother  being  ill  with 
the  malady  which  finally  killed  him,  they  had  be- 
come reconciled,  and  Lao,  at  the  express  wish  of 
his  brother,  had  taken  his  place  as  head  of  the 
family. 

The  party  that  had  gone  to  Villascura  was  to 
return  shortly  before  dinner,  Elena  ordered  the 
meal  to  be  served  a  few  minutes  earlier  than  usual, 
and  told  her  mother  when  she  came  home  that 
she  had  done  so ;  neither  the  countess  nor  the  baron 
had  any  opportunity  of  finding  out  exactly  what 
had  passed  between  her  and  her  uncle. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  dinner,  the  band  from 
Villascura  entered  the  garden,  playing  as  it  came, 
and  Malcanton,  the  factotum,  rushed  out  to  receive 
the  musicians  and  to  place  them  in  the  corner  re- 
served for  them  between  the  farm-house  and  the 
laurels  which  bordered  the  garden  on  the  west. 
Following  the  band  came  several  people;  the  Zir- 
selas,  the  Picutis  and  all  the  society  of  Villascura  and 
Passo  di  Rovese.  A  moment  later  Countess  Tar- 
quinia  came  out  with  the  whole  of  the  party  ex- 
cept Lao,  who  hurried  to  his  room,  where  he  shut 
himself  up.  When  the  countess  appeared  the  band 
struck  up  a  fantasia  on  the  "  Sicilian  Vespers." 
The  Zirselas  and  Picutis,  in  their  best  clothes,  came 
forward  to  greet  their  hostess  who  stood  sur- 
rounded with  people  under  the  trees,  now  touched 
by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.     Baron  di   Santa 


88  THE  POLITICIAN 

Giulia  took  his  wife's  arm,  and  led  her  away  from 
the  rest. 

"  Now,  you  little  witch,"  said  he.  *'  can't  you  speak 
to  me  ?  Tell  me  what  has  happened  ?  First  of  all, 
how  much  ?  " 

"  Wait,"  answered  Elena,  stopping  short  and 
looking  over  her  shoulder.  "  Excuse  me,"  she 
added,  shaking  off  his  hand,  "  those  ladies  have 
come  on  purpose  to  see  me.  How  can  you  expect 
me  to  leave  them  ?  "  and  with  these  words  she  ran 
to  greet  Signora  Zirsela. 

The  Countess  Tarquinia,  had  also  told  her  son- 
in-law,  before  they  went  into  the  garden,  "  You 
will  be  contented  now!"  therefore,  there  could  be 
no  doubt  that  things  had  been  settled,  but  the  baron 
wanted  more  definite  information. 

The  shadows  were  growing  deeper  and  the  wine 
flowed  freely  in  the  corner  between  the  cottages 
and  the  laurel  bushes  and  inspired  the  musicians  of 
Villascura  to  play  with  still  more  diabolical  vigor. 
In  front  of  the  band,  on  the  grass,  the  guests  were 
dancing;  the  peasants  were  dancing  too,  but  in  the 
background.  The  indefatigable  Perlotti,  bathed  in 
perspiration,  was  determined,  at  all  costs  to  make 
Elena  dance  with  him.  He  made  her  a  thousand 
ridiculous  speeches.  So  much  so  that  Elena,  an- 
noyed, was  trying  to  free  herself  with  a  sharp 
answer,  when  her  mother  interposed. 

"  Leave  her  with  me  a  little,"  she  said.  "  I  lose 
her  to-night." 

Mother  and  daughter  moved  away  together  along 


THE  POLITICIAN  89 

a  little  path  that  ran  by  the  side  of  a  stream  between 
the  farm-house  and  the  fields. 

When  other  people  were  present,  the  countess 
was  all  tenderness  towards  her  daughter,  although 
the  latter  replied  but  coldly  to  her  advances;  when 
they  w^ere  alone  there  was  much  reserve  between 
tliem.  The  countess  had  no  ideas,  motives  or  feel- 
ings in  common  with  Elena,  and  moreover  she  knew 
that  her  daughter  was  her  superior  both  morally 
and  intellectually,  and  that  she  was  aware  of  cer- 
tain of  her  mother's  affairs.  The  countess  fully 
justified  these  herself  but  she  knew  they  would  be 
very  differently  regarded  by  her  puritanical  daugh- 
ter. She  complained  to  Elena  that  she  could  not 
spend  these  last  few  hours  alone,  quite  alone,  with 
her;  but  how  was  it  possible  with  a  house  full  of 
guests  on  such  a  day?  She  would  make  up  for 
it  in  October.  She  begged  Elena  to  come  back 
quickly  and  not  to  allow  herself  to  be  carried  off 
into  Sicily;  and  she  added  that  if  they  were  to 
pass  the  summer  by  the  sea,  it  would  not  be  pru- 
dent to  go  to  Naples.  If  her  husband  absolutely 
declined  to  go  to  Venice,  there  were  Leghorn, 
Genoa,  many  other  places  more  suitable  than  Na- 
ples. Why  not  Dieppe  or  Ostend?  But  if  they 
did  not  go  to  the  sea,  she  thought  they  could  not 
do  better  than  try  Aix.  Di  Santa  Giulia  had  talked 
of  Aix  at  first,  if  only  he  could  raise  the  money. 
Now  Elena  could  remind  him  of  what  he  had  said 
and  keep  him  to  his  word.  And  when  she  went  to 
Aix,  or  wherever  it  might  be,  she  must  take  a  maid 


90  THE  POLITICIAN 

with  her,  she  must  insist  upon  that.  He  could  not 
pretend  now  that  economy  was  necessary. 

"  By-the-bye/'  said  the  countess  at  this  point, 
"  How  did  you  succeed  in  persuading  your  uncle, 
and  what  arrangement  did  you  make?  " 

"  You  know  then,"  answered  Elena,  "  what  my 
husband  wanted." 

"  Yes,  he  wanted  at  least  fifteen  thousand  lire, 
which,  after  all,  would  not  ruin  your  uncle,  and  I 
cannot  help  thinking  that  he  might  have  made  less 
trouble  about  giving  it." 

"  And  what  did  my  husband  say  to  you,  mamma  ? 
Did  he  not  threaten  that  failing  to  get  the  money 
he  would  imprison  me  at  Cefalu  for  ever  ?  " 

"  The  wretch !  "  exclairned  the  countess.  "  Yes 
he  did!" 

"  Well,  it  is  settled  that  I  shall  not  go  to  Cefalu 
unless  I  choose." 

"  Thank  God  for  that;  but—" 

A  shudder  seized  Elena,  and  shook  her  from 
head  to  foot. 

"  What  is  the  matter,"  exclaimed  her  rnother, 
"  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered ;  "  really  nothing." 

The  countess  feeling  uneasy,  questioned  her  in- 
sistently, but  without  avail.  At  this  moment,  Mal- 
canton  came  to  ask  whether,  during  the  religious 
function,  the  band  might  rest  in  the  house  instead 
of  going  to  play  in  the  church,  as  the  priests  had 
requested.  Elena  left  the  two  to  consider  this  im- 
portant matter,  and  wended  her  way  to  the  stables, 


THE  POLITICIAN  91 

to  see  if  her  lug-g-age  had  been  taken  in  the  cart 
and  if  everything  was  ready  for  their  start;  but 
at  that  moment  her  husband  chanced  to  come  out 
of  the  house  cahing  to  his  servant,  "  Is  the  baroness 
there  ?  "  and  she  turned  back.  She  wanted  to  avoid 
her  mother,  too,  who,  having  got  rid  of  Malcanton, 
was  coming  in  in  search  of  her.  So  she  went  in- 
doors, and  took  refuge  with  Count  Lao.  As  she 
knocked  at  his  door,  she  remembered  the  stormy 
evening  when  the  rain  had  clouded  every  window, 
and  she  had  knocked  at  the  same  door  with  a  pre- 
sentiment of  a  new  and  unknown  danger.  Now  the 
quiet  evening  light  was  over  all;  the  church-bells 
were  ringing  in  the  clear  sky;  merry  voices  floated 
through  the  open  window  from  the  garden;  all 
seemed  to  say,  "  Away  with  sad  thoughts." 

A  lamp  was  already  burning  in  Count  Lao's 
room,  and  he  was  writing. 

"  Is  it  you?  "  he  said.     "  What  time  is  it?  " 

"  About  nine,  uncle." 

"So  you  still  have  an  hour?  Excuse  me  if 
I  go  on  writing  this  letter,  which  it  is  important 
for  me  to  finish." 

Elena  sat  in  silence  near  the  window.  A  thread 
of  light  filtered  through  the  trees  from  the  tower 
of  the  garden,  and  the  chattering  increased  for  a 
moment.  She  could  hear  Doctor  Grigiolo's  voice 
as  he  screamed  out  his  directions  for  the  illumina- 
tions. 

A  servant  came  in  search  of  Elena.  The  countess 
wanted    her    at    once.     She    was    waiting    for    her 


92  THE  POLITICIAN 

daughter  just  outside  the  house  near  the  billiard- 
room.  Countess  Tarquinia  did  not  pretend  to  be 
a  saint,  but  she  was  convinced  that  her  heart  was 
good,  and  she  wished  to  prove  it  to  Elena.  She 
implored  her  to  speak,  to  confide  in  her  if  she  had 
anything  on  her  mind. 

"  I  have  not  your  virtues,"  she  said  with  humility, 
"  nor  your  talents ;  but  I  am  your  mother  after 
all." 

Elena  was  moved,  and  embraced  her  wnth  more 
affection  than  she  had  shown  her  for  a  long  time. 

"  It  was  nothing,"  she  said;  "  but  when  you  said 
'  thank  God ! '  a  stupid  thought  passed  through  my 
mind  —  the  fear  that  I  might  never  come  back 
here,  and  I  shuddered  —  that  was  all." 

Her  mother  kissed  her,  and  scolded  her  for  giv- 
ing way  to  such  foolish  thoughts.  In  her  heart, 
she  was  not  at  all  convinced,  for  she  knew  that 
Elena  was  not  the  person  to  give  way  to  unrea- 
soning fears. 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  Per- 
lottis,  who  came  out  of  their  room  in  traveling 
costumes. 

"  It  is  early  yet,"  said  the  countess. 

"  Yes,  dear ;  I  know  we  have  nearly  an  hour," 
answered  her  friend ;  "  but  Grigiolo  begged  us  to 
miss  as  little  as  possible  of  the  illumination." 

They  went  out  together.  Festoons  of  colored 
lamps  hung  from  tree  to  tree,  and  from  the  win- 
dows of  the  house  to  those  of  the  cottages.  There 
they  stopped,  but  they  encircled  the  dead  cypress 


THE  POLITICIAN  93 

nearly  to  the  top,  and  in  the  darkness  the  old  tree 
stood  out  like  an  obelisk  of  fire.  The  people  cheered 
and  clapped  their  hands.  Then  the  band  struck  up 
and  marched  through  the  trees  and  around  the 
grounds,  and  took  up  its  position  on  the  lawn.  A 
rocket  shot  through  the  darkness  from  the  far  side 
of  the  field ;  and  people  came  running  from  every 
direction  to  see.  The  baron,  who  had  been  hunt- 
ing high  and  low  for  his  wife,  and  cursing  below 
his  breath,  found  her  at  last,  with  her  mother  and 
the  Perlottis,  on  the  steps  of  the  porch  facing  the 
field. 

"  Elena,"  said  he,  "  I  want  you  for  a  moment." 

He  called  her  indoors  near  the  billiard-table.  He 
was  furious  at  the  long  delay  in  being  able  to  speak 
to  her. 

That  money?  Had  she  the  money  itself?  Or 
had  she  a  letter,  merely  a  spoken  promise  perhaps? 
Had  she  allowed  herself  to  be  put  off  with  that? 

Elena  replied  contemptuously  that  he  had  said 
himself  he  would  be  satisfied  with  a  promise,  and 
that  her  uncle's  word  was  as  good  as  his  bond  or 
his  gold  either.  Then  she  desired  him  to  have  the 
horses  harnessed,  and  turned  back  to  her  mother 
and  the  Perlottis,  who  were  calling  her. 

After  the  rocket,  a  balloon  went  up  filled  with 
crackers  and  squibs,  that  fizzed  and  exploded  in 
the  air. 

"  Long  live  Grigiolo !  "  screamed  Perlotti. 

Instead  of  ordering  the  carriage,  the  baron  went 
up   to   Count   Lao's   room.     He   met   him   coming 


94  THE  POLITICIAN 

downstairs  with  a  letter  in  his  hand,  and  said  that 
he  was  come  to  say  good-bye  and  to  thank  him. 

"  There  is  no  need,"  said  the  count  shortly. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  continued  Di  Santa  Giuha,  "  that, 
owing  to  the  payment  of  this  interest,  I  should  be 
obliged  — " 

"What  payment  of  interest?" 

Lao  frowned  as  if  trying  to  remember  some- 
thing. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  the  baron,  losing  his  temper, 
"  Elena  must  have  told  you  of  the  reasons  which 
obliged  me  — " 

He  concluded  the  sentence  with  an  expressive 
clearing  of  his  throat. 

The  count  was  silent,  and  looked  hard  at  him; 
then  said :  — 

*'  I  know,  I  know ;  all  right." 

He  departed,  leaving  the  baron  quite  nonplussed. 

"  What  the  deuce  has  happened  to  all  these  peo- 
ple to-day?"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  v^ent  to 
order  the  carriage. 

Count  Lao,  wrapped  in  his  overcoat,  with  his 
cape  well  buttoned,  and  collar  turned  up,  joined 
the  group  in  which  his  niece  was  standing,  on  the 
south  side  of  the  billiard-room.  Two  minutes 
later  Doctor  Grigiolo  rushed  up,  quite  out  of 
breath,  watch  in  hand. 

"  Oh,  Baroness  Elena,  it  is  only  just  nine  o'clock, 
and  you  are  already  having  the  horses  put  to  the 
carriage;  for  pity's  sake,  baroness,  don't  go  yet; 
the  most  beautiful  part  of  the  display  is  coming 


'g! 


THE  POLITICIAN  95 

"Let  us  be  off,"  said  the  baron,  coming  up  at 
that  moment.  "  The  best  of  all  is  not  to  miss  the 
train;  I  must  be  in  Rome  to-morrow  evening." 

"  Ten  minutes,  only  ten  minutes  morel  "  implored 
Grigiolo. 

"  Five !  "  roared  the  baron. 

A  rocket  went  up,  and  at  the  same  time  Bengal 
.lights  burst  out  which  illuminated  the  whole  villa 
and  grounds,  the  tower  of  the  church  at  Villascura, 
and  even  the  woods  of  Passo  Grande.  The  air  re- 
sounded with  exclamations  of  applause.  Then 
white  lights  blazed  over  the  fields  to  the  right  and 
left,  throwing  their  silvery  rays  over  the  gravel  and 
grass,  and  over  the  black  crowd  of  spectators.  The 
band  played  the  chorus  from  the  opera  "  Nebuchad- 
nezzar." Elena,  the  countess,  Lao,  and  the  baron 
stood  together  in  a  group  fairly  frantic  with  un- 
easiness to  have  done  with  it  all. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  we  have  had  to  hurry  so 
much,"  said  Grigiolo,  turning  round,  humble  in 
his   glory. 

The  carriage  was  announced. 

"  Let  us  go,"  growled  the  baron. 

Lao  squeezed  his  niece's  hand,  and  returned  to 
the  house. 

Notwithstanding  the  brilliancy  of  the  illumina- 
tions, it  was  not  possible  to  see  plainly  near  the 
carriage,  drawn  up  as  it  was  between  the  stables 
and  the  thick  magnolias  which  grew  on  that  side 
of  the  garden.  Peasants,  servants,  boys,  all 
crowded  round  the  horses.     There  was  a  moment 


g6  THE  POLITICIAN 

of  confusion.  Signora  Peiiotti  could  not  find  her 
traveling-bag;  and  feared  it  had  fallen  under  the 
wheels. 

"  I  will  light  up  a  Bengal  fire !  "  exclaimed  Grig- 
iolo. 

"  Please  don't,"  begged  Elena,  her  voice  full  of 
terror,  as  she  seized  his  arm. 

Then  came  the  kisses  and  the  good-byes.  Elena's 
old  nurse,  now  the  wife  of  the  bailiff,  sobbed  aloud. 
All  were  in  their  places  and  ready  to  start  except 
Signora  Perlotti,  who  could  not  find  her  bag.  At 
last  it  was  discovered  to  have  been  sent  on  with 
Elena's  luggage,  which  had  started  an  hour  pre- 
vious. 

"  Let  us  be  off,"  said  the  baron.  "  Good-bye 
everybody !  " 

The  horses  started,  and  the  gravel  sounded  un- 
der the  heavy  wheels.  As  they  drove  beneath  the 
portico,  Perlotti  waved  his  cap,  and  his  wife  her 
handkerchief;  the  wheels  and  the  iron  hoofs  of  the 
horses  clanged  for  an  instant  over  the  pavement; 
and  then,  all  at  once,  the  sound  died  away,  and 
was  lost  in  the  distance. 

But  Grigiolo  and  one  of  his  assistants  climbed 
the  colossal  fir-tree  that  from  the  plateau  above  the 
road  extends  its  black  fringes  over  the  country. 
As  the  carriage  passed  under  it,  by  the  way  of 
Rovese,  a  white  Bengal  light,  like  a  ray  of  sun- 
shine in  the  darkness,  revealed  to  Elena  the  old  tree 
leaning  over  the  slope  of  the  hill. 


THE  POLITICIAN  97 

"  Safe  journey !  "  shouted  Grigiolo  at  the  top 
of  his  voice. 

Elena  leaned  back  in  the  carriage,  as  though  she 
would  carry  away  in  her  heart  that  last  sight. 

"  That  fellow  is  mad,"  said  the  baron. 

Everything  became  dark  again,  and  nothing  was 
heard  save  the  roaring  of  the  Rovese  torrent  and 
the  measured  trot  of  the  horses.  The  Perlottis 
made  an  attempt  at  conversation,  but,  finding  that 
they  could  awake  no  response,  they  both  fell 
asleep  quickly.  It  was  a  good  three  hours'  drive 
from  Passo  di  Rovese  to  the  town  at  which 
the  Di  Santa  Giulia  were  to  take  the  train  for 
Rome. 

The  baron  neither  spoke  nor  slept.  Wrapped 
in  a  shawl  belonging  to  his  wife,  he  muttered 
curses  at  the  abominable  dampness  of  the  night 
and  at  the  rheumatic  horses  of  the  countess.  Elena, 
leaning  as  far  back  as  possible  in  the  corner  of 
the  carriage,  was  silent,  and  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  road. 

At  the  station  the  Perlottis  found  their  bag, 
and  then  insisted  upon  remaining  with  Elena,  so 
that  they  might  write  back  the  next  day  that  they 
had  actually  seen  her  into  the  train.  While  Di 
Santa  Giulia  was  looking  after  the  luggage,  the 
servants,  who  had  come  from  the  house  with  them, 
gave  Elena  a  letter  from  Count  Lao. 

"Is  it  to  be  mailed?"  she  inquired. 

On  looking  at  it,  however,  she  saw  that  it  was 


98  THE  POLITICIAN 

addressed  to   herself,   and  put   it   into  her  pocket, 
saying  only,   "  Very  good." 

After  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  train  arrived 
full  of  people.  Di  Santa  Giulia  made  such  a  noisy 
use  of  his  titles,  parliamentary  and  otherwise,  that 
an  extra  first-class  carriage  was  attached  to  the 
train,  so  that  the  honorable  senator  and  his  wife 
might  travel  alone. 

"  At  last,"  said  he,  throwing  himself  at  full 
length  upon  the  cushions,  with  his  knees  in  the 
air  and  his  hands  under  his  head,  "  at  last  we  have 
god  rid  of  those  bores!  Now  tell  me  all  about 
the  money.     How  did  you  settle  it  ?  " 

"  I  settled  it  according  to  your  wishes." 

"Fifteen?" 

This  question  was  answered  by  the  whistle  of 
the  engine  as  the  train  moved  out  of  the  station. 

"  Fifteen  ?  "  he  repeated. 

Elena  hesitated  a  moment,  keeping  her  head 
out  of  the  window,  until  all  the  lights  and  the  of- 
fices of  the  station  had  disappeared  from  sight. 

"  No,"  she  said,  drawing  in  her  head ;  "  I  chose 
the  other  course." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  the  baron, 
sitting  up  and  facing  his  wife.  "  The  other 
course?  " 

"  You  told  me,"  answered  Elena,  raising  her 
voice  so  as  to  be  heard  above  the  noise  of  the 
train,  now  rushing  at  full  speed,  "  that  unless  you 
got  the  money  you  would  send  me  into  Sicily,  and 


THE  POLITICIAN  99 

that  I  should  hear  no  more  of  either  Venice  or 
Rome.  You  told  me  distinctly  that  I  should  put 
the  case  before  Uncle  Lao  as :  *  Either  the  money 
or  Cefalu.'  Well,  as  it  depended  upon  myself,  I 
thought  that  I  had  a  perfect  right  to  decide,  and  I 
have  chosen  Cefalu." 

During  this  speech  the  baron's  face  had  under- 
gone a  change.  At  the  last  words  he  seized  her 
knees,  and  leaned  forward. 

"  So,"  he  said,  through  his  clenched  teeth,  "  you 
mean  me  to  understand  that  you  said  nothing  at 
all  about  the  money  ?  " 

Elena  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 

"  You  said  nothing  at  all?  "  he  repeated  violently, 
squeezing  and  shaking  her  knees. 

"  No,  I  said  nothing  at  all,"  she  replied. 

The  baron  thought  she  must  be  lying,  and  that 
she,  her  uncle,  and  her  mother  had  all  combined  to 
make  a  fool  of  him;  in  a  frenzy  of  rage  he  lifted 
his  hand. 

"  Go  on,"  she  murmured,  without  flinching. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  "you  said  nothing?" 

The  train  at  this  moment  entered  a  tunnel. 
Elena  saw  her  husband  gesticulating  furiously ; 
she  could  hear  him  screaming,  without  being  able 
to  catch  what  he  said.  She  did  distinguish,  how- 
ever, the  word  "  hypocrite."  In  answer,  she 
pointed  at  her  husband,  with  the  forefinger  of  her 
right  hand. 

"  I  ?  "  screamed  the  man. 


lOO  THE  POLITICIAN 

He  was  silent,  and  so  was  Elena,  until  the  train 
left  the  tunnel,  and  the  noise  became  less  in  con- 
sequence. 

"  What  do  you  want  that  money  for?  "  she  asked. 

He  answered  brutally  that  he  wanted  it  to  pay  her 
expenses.  It  was  not  true;  he  wanted  it  to  meet 
important  pledges,  but  he  wished  to  insult  her.  He 
added  that  she  had  been  the  first  to  play  the  hypo- 
crite, for  she  had  deceived  him  at  the  altar  with 
her  false  "  I  will,"  which  she  did  not  mean. 

Elena's  heart  ached  at  this.  It  was  true,  quite 
true;  she  recognized  her  own  fault,  the  selfishness 
of  the  resolution  she  had  made  to  quit  the  paternal 
roof.  She  resolved  not  to  answer  that;  even  if  she 
did  not  believe  in  God,  she  would  die  sooner  than 
believe  her  "  I  will,"  however  much  she  might 
grieve  for  it.  She  must  suffer  the  penalty  alone, 
in  silence,  until  the  end. 

Her  husband  asked  if  she  thought  that  he  had 
threatened  her  with  Cefalu  as  a  joke. 

"  I  hope  not,"  she  replied. 

"Well,  no!"  retorted  the  baron  with  a  sneer, 
"  I  suppose  those  two  other  people  will  laugh  at  me 
now,"  he  added,  "  but  may  God  crush  me  if  I  ever 
look  upon  their  faces  again,  or  if  I  ever 
accept,  from  them,  a  drop  of  water,  even  though  I 
die  of  thirst." 

To  Elena's  protestations  that  her  relations  knew 
nothing  about  it,  he  made  no  reply,  and  huddling 
himself  up  in  the  corner  of  the  carriage,  he  relapsed 
into  silence. 


THE  POLITICIAN  loi 

They  watched  each  other,  from  opposite  corners 
—  he  surly,  she  grave.  It  was  dark  and  the  cold 
air  which  blew  in  at  the  windows,  made  the  lamps 
flicker  as  though  they  were  afraid  of  it.  Suddenly 
Elena  remembered  her  uncle's  letter  and  read  it  se- 
cretly. Count  Lao  said,  in  very  few  words,  that 
he  did  not  altogether  believe  what  she  had  told 
him,  and  fearing  some  sentimental  foolishness,  he 
had  sent  the  National  Bank  at  Rome  the  sum  of  fif- 
teen thousand  lire  payable  to  her.  She  might  repay 
him  in  October,  if  she  really  did  not  need  it.  Elena 
replaced  the  letter  in  her  pocket,  and  looked  out  of 
the  window. 

Little  by  little  the  noise  of  the  train  became  to 
her  like  the  continual  beating  of  waves,  then  it 
seemed  to  be  like  a  mob,  with  the  shouts  of  many 
people;  the  dark  country  looked  to  her  like  a  sea, 
and  the  fixed  eyes  of  three  distant  planets  seemed 
to  call  her  to  themselves,  as  if  they  knew  her  se- 
cret thought.  "  For  him,  for  his  sake,  so  as  not 
to  sadden  his  life!"  The  rare  stops  of  the  train 
interrupted  these  thoughts,  but  travelers  got  in  and 
out  unnoticed  by  her.  Towards  daybreak  the  train 
passed,  with  a  great  noise,  over  a  bridge  with 
high  sides  of  iron  lattice-work,  through  which  were 
visible  a  large  sheet  of  water,  and  the  reflection 
of  the  waning  stars.  Someone  said,  in  a  low 
voice, — 

"The  river  Po." 

Elena  roused  herself  from  her  thoughts;  she  was 
sorry  to  see  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn,   and  she 


I02  THE  POLITICIAN 

closed  her  eyes  again  to  the  vanishing  bank  of  the 
river,  and  revived  in  her  passionate  imagination 
the  vi^ords  engraved  upon  the  poor  stone  hidden  far 
away  on  the  horizon  in  the  gardens  of  the  Villa 
Cortis :  "  In  winter  and  in  summer  —  from  near 
and  from  far  —  as  long  as  I  live,  and  beyond  that 
again." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SIGNORA   FIAMMA 

Cortis  reached  Lugano  late  in  the  evening.  He 
went  to  the  modest  "  Pension  du  Panorama,"  one 
of  the  houses  which  lend  the  name  of  Paradise  to 
that  edge  of  the  lake  in  the  curved  hollow  far  from 
the  town,  and  from  behind  w4iich  rise  the  steep 
slopes  of  San  Salvatore.  He  left  his  inn  imme- 
diately and  took  the  path  that  led  upwards  to  Paz- 
zallo.  His  mother's  friend,  Signora  Leonora 
Fiamma,  had  written  to  him  that  they  lived  in  a 
little  house  between  Paradise  and  Pazzallo,  on  the 
left-hand  side  of  the  road,  somewhat  below  a  tav- 
ern, and  almost  hidden  under  the  shade  of  a  thickly- 
wooded  slope.  He  was  to  ring  a  bell  which  he 
would  find  in  the  red  railings  between  two  mul- 
berry trees. 

Cortis  found  the  gate  and  rang  the  bell.  He 
had  announced  his  coming  by  telegram,  so  that  he 
knew  he  was  expected. 

A  maid  servant  came  to  the  gate. 

"Is  Signora  Fiamma  living  here?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  is  the  old  lady?" 

The  maid  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

103 


I04  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Are  you,"  she  inquired,   ''  the  gentleman  who 
sent  a  telegram  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Good.     The  lady  is  much  the  same  as  she  was." 
"111?" 

"The  same." 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  answer  me,"  said  Cortis 
sharply.     "  Is  she  ill  or  not  ?  " 

"My  mistress  will  tell  you,"  she  replied  imper- 
tinently, as  she  opened,  with  a  very  bad  grace,  the 
door  of  a  little  drawing-room  on  the  ground  floor. 

"  Here  is  the  gentleman,"  she  announced,  look- 
ing towards  the  further  end  of  the  room. 

Cortis  entered.  High  on  a  bracket  in  a  corner 
of  the  room  he  saw  a  lamp;  under  the  lamp,  and 
resting  against  a  large  easy-chair,  he  saw  some 
shining  black  hair,  and  the  face  of  a  woman  which 
in  that  light  looked  faded  and  tired. 

"  Signora  Fiamma  ?  "  he  said. 

The  glossy  head  made  an  affirmative  motion,  and 
after  a  pause,  a  voice  neither  youthful  nor  sweet, 
but  rather  languid  and  sad,  said  gently :  — 

"And  are  you  Signor  Cortis?" 

The  reception  and  the  voice  displeased  Cortis, 
who  did  not  return  a  direct  answer. 

"And  your  friend/'  he  asked,   "how  is  she?" 

"  Still  in  the  same  sad  state,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Pray  sit  down.  It  will  be  impossible  for  you  to 
see  her  this  evening,  as  the  doctor  does  not  think 
it  would  be  safe.  I  must  apologize  to  you,"  she 
went  on,  "  if  my  reception  of  you  seems  cold,  and  if 


THE  POLITICIAN  105 

I  do  not  express  all  the  gratitude  that  I  ought  to 
feel,  to  you,  but  the  truth  is,  I  myself  am  far  from 
well." 

Signora  Fiamma  pronounced  these  last  words  as 
if  with  her  last  breath,  and  rested  her  head  on  the 
back  of  her  chair.  As  the  lamp  light  fell  upon 
her,  it  displayed  her  features  plainly :  the  forehead 
deeply  marked  with  wrinkles,  the  large  tragic  nose, 
the  eyes  passionate  and  untrustworthy. 

She  gave  a  sigh  so  deep  that  it  was  almost  a 
groan;  and  turned  her  head,  without  raising  it 
from  the  cushion,  towards  Cortis. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  "  I  can  do  no  more." 

"Listen  to  me,"  said  Cortis;  "in  no  case  did 
I  wish  to  see  your  friend  this  evening,  unless  it  were 
of  vital  importance  that  I  should.  You  must  for- 
give me,  signora,  if  I  speak  to  you  very  frankly, 
as  it  is  my  custom.  I  have  always  believed  my 
mother  was  dead.     You  tell  me  she  is  living." 

"You  want  proofs?"  sighed  Signora  Leonora. 
"  Does  not  your  heart  tell  you,"  she  continued,  in 
a  dramatic  voice,  "  that  under  this  roof  — " 

"  Please  leave  my  heart  out  of  the  question,  sig- 
nora," interrupted  Cortis.  "  I  shall  be  grateful  if 
you  will  show  me  the  proofs  of  what  you  have 
stated." 

"  It  will  be  a  great  blow  to  Signora  Cortis,"  she 
murmured,  raising  her  eyes  to  heaven,  "  but  it  is 
just,  it  is  only  just!  We  were  prepared  for  this, 
and  I  will  show  you  my  friend's  papers." 

She  wiped  her  eyes  several  times  with  a  scented 


io6  THE  POLITICIAN 

pocket-handkerchief,  and  then  gazed  at  it  as  if 
to  assure  herself  that  she  had  not  shed  tears  of 
blood.  She  begged  Cortis  to  ring  the  bell,  then  she 
ordered  a  candle  to  be  brought,  and  raised  herself 
with  an  evident  efifort.  She  was  tall  and  thin. 
Above  her  collar  of  black  tulle  her  neck  showed 
long  and  yellow ;  and  her  large  black  eyes  had  dark 
circles  about  them.  She  wore  a  very  well-made 
black  gown,  with  a  long  train  and  her  walk  was  like 
that  of  Lady  Macbeth  when  she  appears  upon  the 
stage  asleep,  bearing  the  light  in  her  hand. 

As  soon  as  she  had  gone,  Cortis  made  a  hurried 
examination  of  the  room;  he  noticed  two  oil  paint- 
ings, a  Magdalen  and  a  Saint  Cecilia,  evidently 
copies,  the  photographs  of  an  old  lady  and  of  an 
old  man  covered  with  decorations,  which  bore  an  in- 
scription and  an  album  of  water  color  sketches, 
with  the  name  of  Signora  Leonora  Fiamma  on  its 
first  page,  "  artist  in  ordinary  to  H.  R.  H.  the 
Grand  Duke  Leopold  of — "  In  one  corner  of  the 
room  stood  a  dusty  lamp. 

The  signora  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  placed 
the  candle  and  a  small  portfolio  on  a  little  oval 
table  which  stood  near  her  arm-chair,  and  told  Cor- 
tis that  her  friend  needed  her  for  a  moment,  but 
that  he  was  at  liberty  to  open  the  portfolio  and  ex- 
amine its  contents.     She  would  come  back  later. 

When  Cortis  was  alone,  he  had  to  exercise  all 
his  self-command.  Before  opening  the  papers  he 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  put  aside  with  a 
violent  effort,  every  thought  of  weakness  that  might 


THE  POLITICIAN  107 

disturb    his    judgment.     When    he    uncovered    his 
face  he  was  grave,  but  calm. 

The  first  paper  that  he  came  on  was  a  letter  from 
a  Doctor ,  an  old  friend  of  his  father.  It  ap- 
peared from  this  letter  that  in  1857,  more  than  a 
year  after  she  had  quitted  her  husband's  roof,  Sig- 
nora  Cortis  had  written  to  him  imploring  his  for- 
giveness. Doctor  had  been  charged  to  an- 
swer her  appeal,  and  had  been  told  to  say  that  there 
was  no  chance  of  its  being  granted.  He  had  added 
to  this  bitter  message,  on  his  own  account,  a  long 
and  friendly  letter  of  encouragement,  good  advice, 
and  vague  hopes  for  the  future.  This  doctor  had 
been  a  colleague  of  the  elder  Cortis  in  the  Crimean 
war,  while  the  signora  was  allowing  herself  to  be 
led  astray  at  Alessandria.  On  his  return,  her  hus- 
band discovered  her  infidelity,  and  she  then  accused 
an  artillery  officer,  who  had  died  a  few  days  pre- 
viously.    P gave  her  to  understand  that  her 

husband  did  not  believe  this  accusation,  and  that 
this  further  doubt  of  her  truthfulness  was  placing 
her  still  more  in  the  wrong. 

While  Cortis  was  reading,  groans  and  sobs  could 
be  heard  above  his  head  sounding  sadly  through  the 
silent  house.  He  seized  the  candle  to  go  and  see 
whence  they  came,  but  heard  a  step,  a  quiet  voice, 
and  all  was  silent.  He  put  down  the  candle,  and 
finished  his  reading  in  a  very  agitated  frame  of 
mind. 

He  next  opened  a  little  gold  locket,  and  found  in 
it    the    portraits    of    his    maternal    grandparents, 


io8  THE  POLITICIAN 

Charles  and  Magdalen  Zarutti  of  Cividale.  As  a 
child,  he  had  twice  passed  the  autumn  with  them. 
There  was  his  grandfather,  that  dear  old  man  who 
used  to  come  to  take  him  away  in  September,  and 
bring  him  back  at  the  end  of  October.  That 
was  his  smile !  And  his  grandmother  too,  poor  old 
lady,  how  happy  she  looked !  They  died  of  broken 
hearts  within  a  year  of  each  other,  and  now,  as 
they  looked  at  him,  they  seemed  to  say,  "  Dear  boy, 
we  are  your  grandparents ! "  Cortis  looked  no 
further,  but  hurried  out  of  the  room  in  search  of 
the  Signora.  He  called,  opened  a  door  that  he 
came  upon,  and  found  himself  in  a  studio,  filled 
with  easels  and  chairs,  and  reeking  with  paint  and 
tobacco.  On  a  table  a  copy  of  "  Nana  "  lay  be- 
tween a  bottle  and  a  pile  of  cigars.  A  moment  later 
the  maid  servant  appeared,  breathless. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  asked  crossly; 
"  what  are  you  looking  for  ?  " 

"  Signora  Fiamma,"  answered  Cortis ;  "  go  up- 
stairs and  tell  her  to  come  down." 

His  voice  and  manner  expressed  disgust  rather 
than  good-will  towards  "  Signora  Fiamma." 

The  woman  pushed  past  him,  and  hastily  shut 
the  door  of  the  studio. 

"  I  cannot  go  now,"  she  said. 

"Very  well;  then  I  will  go  myself,"  declared 
Cortis. 

"  Oh,  for  mercy's  sake,  don't.  It  is  strictly  for- 
bidden." 

Cortis  took  one  of  his  cards  out  of  his  pocket, 


THE  POLITICIAN  109 

scribbled  a  few  words  on  it  in  haste,  and  then  tore 
it  up. 

"  Go,"  he  said,  "  tell  her  that  I  am  waiting,"  and 
he  returned  to  the  drawing-room. 

The  maid  reappeared  presently  with  these  words 
written  by  Signora  Fiamma  — 

"  Your  mother  is  so  upset  at  this  moment  that 
it  is  impossible  for  me  to  come  down  to  you.  Come 
to-morrow  morning  at  eight.  Take  the  portfolio 
away  with  you." 

"  Good  God !  "  exclaimed  Cortis,  "  but  may  I 
not  even  be  told  how  this  other  lady  is,  or  what 
she  is  suffering  from?  Why  can  I  not  see  her  this 
evening?  When  will  the  doctor  come?  Who  is 
the  doctor?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  must  see 
him?  Come,  speak,  say  something!  Don't  you 
belong  to  the  house?  Are  you  dumb?  Can't  you 
answer  ?     Speak,  I  tell  you !  " 

"  Hush,"  said  the  woman,  "  her  illness  is  all 
nerves  —  a  woman's  illness;  I  don't  believe  there 
is  any  danger.  But  if  she  has  said  that  she  can- 
not see  you  this  evening,  it's  no  use  to  wait.  Come 
to-morrow." 

"  But  what  is  the  doctor's  name?  " 

The  servant  named  a  certain  doctor  who,  she 
said,  lived  outside  Lugano,  and  who  would  prob- 
ably not  come  again  before  the  following  evening. 

Cortis  took  the  portfolio. 

"  You  will  say  to  your  mistress,"  he  began  — 
"  but,  by  the  way,  who  is  your  mistress?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  who  is  she?  " 


no  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Is  the  Signora  Fiamma  your  mistress,  or  the 
other?" 

"  The  Signora  Fiamma." 

"  And  the  other  ?  How  does  it  happen  that  they 
Hve  together  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  have  been  here  two  months. 
I  think  they  have  always  been  together." 

"  How  long  have  they  lived  in  Lugano  ?  " 

"  Three  or  four  months." 

"  And  how  long  has  this  other  lady  been  ill  ?  " 

"  She  is  never  well.  She  has  always  been  poorly 
since  I  came." 

Cortis  could  get  nothing  more  out  of  the  maid. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  continued,  "  tell  your  mistress 
that  I  should  have  liked  very  much  to  see  her  again 
this  evening,  and  that  I  will  bring  back  the  papers 
to-morrow." 

The  servant  took  a  light,  and  accompanied  him 
as  far  as  the  garden  gate. 

Cortis  w^alked  hastily  away,  torn  by  his  feelings, 
which  could  only  find  vent  in  active  exercise.  What 
a  repulsive  face  that  artist  of  the  Grand  Duke  had ! 
What  a  perfume  of  lies  there  was  in  that  house, 
and  what  did  it  conceal ! 

And  his  mother  —  his  mother !  The  anxious 
thoughts  that  had  been  raised  by  the  style  of  the 
letter  written  to  him  by  Signora  Fiamma  rose  again 
in  his  mind  more  painfully  than  ever.  How  could 
she  be  a  friend  of  such  a  woman !  However,  Doc- 
tor P had  evidently  had   some  esteem,   some 

friendly   feeling   for   her,   when   he   wrote   to   her. 


THE  POLITICIAN.  iii 

And  she,  at  least  at  that  time,  had  wept,  and  prayed, 
and  suffered.  There  was  still  hope  for  her !  But 
how  could  she  have  deceived  such  a  man  as  his 
father  ? 

These  conflicting  thoughts  clashed  so  harshly  in 
his  mind  that  Cortis  stopped  short,  and  spoke  aloud 
in  the  darkness ;  then,  with  his  feelings  relieved, 
he  looked  toward  the  lights  of  Lugano,  and  be- 
yond the  austere,  dumb  passion  of  the  mountains 
which  raised  their  black  masses  against  the  sky, 
and  still  further  in  the  background,  the  mysterious 
lake,  of  which  he  could  see  neither  the  beginning 
nor  the  end.  His  recollections  of  Lugano  were  of 
bright  sunshine  amongst  the  hills  and  sparkling 
water;  but  it  was  very  different  now.  That  peak, 
far  away  to  the  east,  menacing  heaven  with  its  lofty 
head,  seemed  new  to  him.  He  had  not  seen  that 
previously.  Before  going  back  to  his  inn,  he  walked 
along  the  lake  into  the  town.  Everything  was  de- 
serted. The  silent  stearnboats  lay  at  anchor  in 
front  of  the  dark  houses.  A  few  foreigners  were 
still  talking  and  smoking  on  the  terrace  of  the 
Washington  Hotel,  where  Cortis  had  stayed  with 
his  father  in  September  of  1868.  He  stepped  on 
the  little  steamboat  pier,  and  watched  the  grey,  mo- 
tionless lake,  and  the  lofty  ghost  of  San  Salvatore. 
He  had  arrived  there  thirteen  years  before  with  a 
crowd  of  pleasure-seeking  people ;  the  day  had  been 
very  bright  and  very  windy.  But  finally  he  turned 
back  and  sought  his  hotel,  exhausted  as  he  hoped 
he  would  be. 


112  THE  POLITICIAN 

That  night  in  his  few  snatches  of  sleep,  he 
dreamed  Elena  led  his  mother  to  him  by  the  hand, 
saying,  "  Comfort  her !  "  His  mother  was  small 
and  fair,  with  blue  eyes ;  she  did  not  speak  —  she 
only  wept. 

He  rose  a  little  before  six,  and  went  out  into  the 
hotel  garden,  where  an  old  man  was  watering  the 
flowers.  The  sky  was  clear.  On  lake  and  moun- 
tain lay  the  lights  and  shadows  of  early  morning, 
and  far  away  to  the  east  the  high  peak,  now  bathed 
in  blue  mist,  no  longer  looked  threatening.  Cortis 
asked  the  old  gardner  if  he  could  tell  him  any- 
thing of  two  ladies,  who  had  lived  in  a  villa  near 
Pazzallo  for  some  few  months  ?  He  did  not  know ; 
he  had  known  of  one  lady  who  used  to  paint,  and 
who  lived  somewhere  in  that  direction.  She  came 
to  luncheon  several  times  at  the  "  Panorama,"  but 
now  the  proprietor  would  not  let  her  come  any 
more,  as  he  had  not  been  paid,  after  the  first  two 
or  three  visits.  More  than  this  Cortis  could  not 
discover.  He  felt  that  he  could  wait  no  longer, 
and  took  the  road  up  the  hill,  determined  to  get 
some  information  before  eight  o'clock.  He  met 
some  peasants  coming  down  into  the  town  with 
vegetables  and  fruits,  and  inquired  of  them ;  but 
they  could  tell  him  nothing.  He  had  reached  the 
red  railings,  when  he  saw  a  milk-woman  coming 
out  of  the  gate.  He  stopped  her,  and  asked  for  a 
glass  of  milk.  The  woman,  smiling,  asked  if  he 
were  going  up  San  Salvatore.  Cortis  drank,  and 
made  no  reply. 


THE  POLITICIAN  113 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  "  is  it  you  who  generally 
brings  the  milk  to  this  house?" 

"  Always." 

"  So  of  course  you  know  the  ladies  who  live 
here?" 

"  To  be  sure." 

"What  are  their  names?" 

"  Why,  the  servant  is  Miss  Barbara,  and  the  mis- 
tress has  a  name  that  I  have  never  been  properly 
able  to  master." 

"And  the  other  lady?" 

"Which  one?" 

"  The  other,  the  friend  of  the  mistress  of  the 
house?  " 

"  My  good  sir,"  said  the  woman  in  surprise,  "  I 
don't  know  her  at  all." 

"  But  they  live  together." 

"  Indeed  not,  sir ;  there  is  only  one  lady  here." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  asked.  "  Don't  you 
know  that  there  is  an  invalid  here  ?  " 

"  The  lady  who  paints  is  always  queer,  but  there 
is  no  other  lady  in  the  house,  unless  she  arrived 
yesterday.  The  day  before  yesterday,  I  was  work- 
ing in  the  garden  the  whole  day." 

The  woman's  face  was  honest  and  open,  and  her 
words  sounded  like  the  truth. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Cortis  with  a  pale  face,  "  that 
will  do." 

He  rang  the  bell.  The  door  of  the  drawing- 
room  was  opened  slightly  and  then  shut  again. 
No  one  appeared. 


114  THE  POLITICIAN 

Cortis  rang  a  second  time,  then  a  third,  each  time 
more  loudly,  and  each  time  without  result. 

A  peasant   who  passed  stopped  to  look   on. 

"  You  may  pull  that  bell  all  day,"  he  said,  "  if 
they  don't  wish  to  answer  that's  always  the  way 
with  these  adventurers." 

"Do  you  know  these  people?"  inquired  Cortis. 

The  peasant  replied  that  he  knew  the  artist  lady 
very  well  indeed.  She  lived  alone,  looked  like  a 
witch,  and  paid  nobody. 

Cortis  rang  for  the  fourth  time.  At  last  the 
maid  appeared. 

"  It  is  only  seven  o'clock,"  she  said,  "  we  were  all 
in  bed." 

He  entered  without  speaking,  but  gave  her  such 
a  look  that  she  turned  pale,  and  was  silent. 

"  Your  mistress  ?  "  he  said,  "  where  is  your  mis- 
tress? Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?  Why 
don't  you  answer  me?  Is  she  in  bed?  I  must 
speak  to  her.  Stop!  "  he  exclaimed  as  the  woman 
was  retiring,  "how  about  the  other  lady?" 

The  servant  dropped  her  eyes  and  began  — 

"It  is  not  my  fault  — " 

"  Let  me  in,"  said  Cortis. 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,"  she  continued.  "  I  only 
say  what  I  am  told." 

Cortis  ordered  her  to  be  silent  and  to  lead  the 
way. 

When  they  reached  the  drawing-room,  the  wo- 
man said  in  a  whisper :  — 


THE  POLITICIAN  115 

"  It  is  three  months  since  I  have  had  a  penny  of 
my  wages." 

"  In  that  case  you  tell  lies  for  pleasure,"  said 
Cortis.     "  Your  mistress  is  up:  she  is  not  in  bed." 

Some  one  could  be  heard  moving  about  over- 
head.    Then  a  bell  rang. 

"  I  am  wanted,"  said  the  servant,  going  towards 
the  door. 

Cortis  stopped  her. 

"  One  minute,"  he  said.  "  Is  her  real  name  Fi- 
amma  or  not  ?  " 

Barbara  looked  at  him  open-mouthed. 

"  What !  You  didn't  understand  ?  Why  !  that's 
a  name  that  the  lady  invented  for  herself.  It  is  she 
who  is  really  your  mother!  " 

And  she  turned  to  go  upstairs. 

"  I  will  go  myself,"  said  he ;  "  where  is  the  stair- 
case? " 

He  found  it  at  the  end  of  a  short  passage,  where 
a  petroleum  lamp  was  burning  before  various  im- 
ages of  saints  and  madonnas  of  every  kind  and 
color.  He  had  reached  the  last  step,  when  a  door 
in  front  of  him  was  thrown  open,  and  Signora 
Fiamma,  dishevelled  and  untidy,  appeared  on  the 
landing  with  a  cry. 

"  Ah !  I  see !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  your  heart  has 
told  you !  " 

She  clasped  her  hands,  and  would  have  thrown 
herself  on  her  knees,  but  Cortis  would  not  let  her. 
He  carried  her  into  the  room,  and  shut  the  door 


ii6  THE  POLITICIAN 

behind  him.  She  fought  and  struggled  to  go  down 
upon  her  knees,  pushing  her  arm  against  the  back 
of  her  son,  throwing  herself  backwards,  and  toss- 
'ing  herself  about  violently.  At  length  she  fell 
exhausted  into  the  arm-chair  towards  which  Cortis 
pushed  her. 

"  I  lied  to  you,"  she  said  panting,  and  out  of 
breath,  *'  I  deceived  you,  I  had  no  courage  to  tell 
you  all  at  once;  I  wanted  to  see  you,  to  hear  you 
for  one  hour  in  peace." 

Cortis,  leaning  over  her,  interrupted  her  at  the 
first  words,  placed  his  hand  over  her  knees,  kissed 
her,  as  though  impelled  to  do  so,  then  he  quickly 
withdrew  himself  from  the  arms  which  she  had 
thrown  round  his  neck.  She  remained  with  her 
hands  in  the  air,  stupefied  with  joy. 

"  Daniele !  "  she  said. 
.    He   no   longer   stood   in   front   of   her,    but   she 
heard  his  voice  from  behind  her  chair;  his  manly 
voice  broken  with  sorrow. 

"  Forgive  me ;  I  kissed  my  mother  and  did  not 
wish  you  to  see  me." 

Signora  Fiamma  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and 
then,  in  a  low,  complaining  voice,  she  answered :  — 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

Cortis  sighed  and  made  no  reply.  Some  min- 
utes passed. 

"  Here  is  your  portfolio,"  he  said  at  last,  drily. 

"  Oh,  Daniele,  Daniele !  "  groaned  the  Signora, 
"  do  not  speak  to  me  like  that !  "  and  she  burst  into 


THE  POLITICIAN 


117 


tears.  "I  only  half  deceived  you,"  she  went  on; 
"  I  am  suffering  so  much.  Do  you  know,  I  have 
only  a  short  time  to  live,  Daniele?  Had  I  not 
known  that,  I  should  never  have  dared  to  write  to 
you.  God  is  merciful.  He  has  purified  me  with 
persistent  troubles  and  sorrows.  Now  I  can  bear 
no  more,  I  can  bear  no  more.  You  have  been 
good  enough  to  come  to  me;  search  in  your  heart 
for  one  word  after  hearing  which  I  may  die 
happy." 

"  But,  don't  you  see,"  broke  Cortis,  "  don't  you 
understand  that  I  do  not  — " 

That  I  do  not  believe  you,  he  was  going  to  say. 
The  signora  waited,  pale  and  staring,  for  the  words 
which  did  not  come.  ■  Her  voice  died  on  her  half- 
open  lips,  Daniele  took  a  chair,  and,  moving  it 
close  to  his  mother,  planted  it  on  the  ground  with 
such  force  as  almost  to  break  its  legs. 

"  Tell  me  everything,"  he  said,  throwing  him- 
self heavily  into  it.  "  Everything,  from  that  day 
until  this.  You  cannot !  "  he  cried,  with  sparkling 
eyes,  as  his  mother  hesitated. 

"  I  can,  indeed  I  can,"  said  the  signora  with  a 
theatrical  gesture.  "  It  will  be  painful,  but  I  can 
do  it.     It  is  my  duty,  and  I  will  speak." 

Cortis  seemed  in  that  moment  to  recognize  his 
mother  better  than  he  had  done  by  means  of  the 
papers  in  the  portfolio,  better  than  in  the  dim 
memory  that  had  remained  to  him  from  his  child- 
hood.    He  fancied  there  must  be  the  same  fire  in 


ii8  THE  POLITICIAN 

both  their  veins,  although  his  mother  used  hers  only 
for  theatrical  experiments,  while  he  reserved  his 
for  real  thunder  and  lightning. 

She  told  a  long,  rambling,  sentimental  story, 
bathing  her  worn  out  sentences  with  tears,  in  hopes 
of  making  them  seem  fresh. 

Her  purification  had  begun  on  the  very  day  of 
her  well-deserved  punishment.  Grief,  good  reso- 
lutions, hope  —  yes,  even  hope  itself  —  had  never 
abandoned  her  since.  On  leaving  her  husband's 
roof,  she  had  implored  the  compassion  of  some 
kind  relatives,  who  had  taken  her  to  their  house. 
But.  her  life  with  them  had  been  made  too  easy 
through  their  tenderness  and  affection;  it  was  no 
expiation!  On  that  account,  she  had  quitted  those 
dear  creatures,  to  whom  she  hoped  God  would  show 
mercy,  as  they  had  shown  it  to  her !  Signora  Cor- 
tis  laid  great  stress  upon  this  detail,  because  of 
a  certain  slanderous  report,  that  the  "  dear  crea- 
tures "  had  driven  her,  after  three  months'  trial, 
away  from  their  tenderness  and  affection.  Then 
God  had  whispered  to  her,  "  You  can  paint,"  and 
she  had  turned  to  art,  and  said,  "  Save  me !  " 

She  had  betaken  herself  to  Rome,  in  order  to 
copy  in  the  galleries  for  m>oney.     While  there,  the 

Grand  Duchess  of  had  appointed  a^  to  be 

her  painter-in-ordinary.  Unkind  people  might 
have  said  the  "  Grand  Duke "—  she  said  the 
"  Grand  Duchess/'  Of  the  Grand  Duke,  she  said 
only  that  he  had  died  a  few  years  later,  her'  she 
added  that  his  afflicted   widow   had  lost  her   love 


THE  POLITICIAN  119 

for  art,  and  no  longer  desired  painters-in-ordinary 
at  the  court.  She  had  been  speaking  for  an  hour 
when  she  reached  this  point.  It  may  have  been 
from  fatigue  and  excitement,  or  it  may  have  been 
that  the  latter  part  of  the  story  was  more  difficult 
to  tell  than  the  former,  but  it  is  certain  that  she 
now  began  to  lose  her  self  control,  and  to  inter- 
rupt her  narrative  with  sighs  and  groans.  Long, 
long  years  of  suffering  passed  confusedly  before 
the  eyes  of  Cortis,  who  sat  silent  and  frowning. 
He  heard  all  the  misery,  he  saw  all  the  fatigues 
and  the  privations  of  her  wandering  life,  he  under- 
stood all  the  ills  that  no  doctor  had  ever  been  able  to 
comprehend,  and  which  arose  therefrom. 

She  had  come  to  Lugano  from  Dusseldorf  a  few 
months  before,  because  her  doctors  had  recom- 
mended her  to  return  to  the  Italian  climate.  Her 
sufferings,  allayed  for  a  time,  had  reasserted  them- 
selves with  renewed  force.  Work  had  become 
almost  impossible  to  her.  And  then,  feeling  her- 
self less  able  to  cope  with  the  wretchedness  that 
had  now  lasted  more  than  twenty-five  years,  and 
seeing  that  her  last  day  would  dawn  in  gloom  and 
misery,  she  had  asked  God  whether  the  bitter  cup 
were  not  yet  emptied,  and  whether  she  might  see 
her  son  again  before  her  death.  God  had  given 
her  permission  to  write,  but  not  the  courage.  Not 
daring  to  say,  "  I  am  your  mother,  for  fear  of 
being  disbelieved,  she  had  written  to  him  as  a 
friend  of  her  own,  under  her  artist  pseudonym; 
that  name  belonged  to  her  and  was  unsullied. 


I20  THE  POLITICIAN 

She  paused  and  wept.  Cortis  looked  black 
rather  than  sympathetic. 

"  Did  you  never  have  help?  "  he  said,  "  Never? 
From  my  father,  I  mean?  " 

"  No,  never  anything.     Indeed  I  had  not !  " 

Cortis  frowned.  She  had  said  "  Indeed  I  had 
not  "  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  imply  a  reproach, 
without  which  she  did  not  quite  dare  to  make 
plainer. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked.  "That  he 
should  have  helped  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  said  the  signora  sobbing. 

"  My  father  had  already  done  much  for  you," 
continued  Cortis.  "  When  you  left  his  house  he 
restored  your  whole  private  fortune  to  you.  Is  it 
not  so  ?  " 

"  It  was  very  little,"  she  said. 

A  flush  rose  to  Cortis'  cheek.  He  saw  and  felt 
over  him  the  eye  of  his  father;  not  severe,  but 
vigilant;  and  he  was  now  more  conscious  than  ever 
of  all  the  sorrow,  all  the  trouble  that  that  just  and 
firm  man  had  intended  to  conceal  from  him. 

"  My  father  was  generous  to  you,"  he  said. 
"  Besides,  there  are  several  things  in  your  story 
that  I  find  difficult  to  explain." 

She  was  seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  convulsions, 
and  from  them  passed  into  a  condition  of  such  ex- 
haustion that  she  could  neither  speak  nor  hear. 
Cortis  called  Barbara,  and  with  austere  face,  he 
assisted  her  silently  to  do  what  was  necessary  for 
his  mother. 


CHAPTER  VII 

READY 

Signora  Cortis  did  not  recover  that  day,  in  spite 
of  the  assistance  of  her  homoepathic  medicine 
chest,  and  of  several  glasses  of  rum,  the  most 
efficacious,  according  to  her,  of  all  medicines. 
Late  in  the  evening  she  fell  asleep.  Then  Daniele, 
who  had  barely  found  time  to  dine  and  write  a 
note  to  Elena,  went  down  to  Lugano.  Before 
leaving  the  house  he  made  Barbara  open  the  studio 
for  him.  Neither  the  book,  the  bottle,  nor  the 
cigars  were  there. 

"  Does  any  one  come  to  see  her?  "  asked  Cortis. 

"  Hardly  anybody,"  answered  the  maid. 
"  Sometimes  a  Russian  lady  comes." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  I  think  she  is  a  lady  from  the  theatre.  But  she 
is  as  old  as  my  mistress.  She  had  written  her 
name  in  a  book  which  was  lying  here  yesterday, 
but  I  don't  see  it  now.  My  mistress  must  have 
taken  it  away  last  night." 

Cortis  looked  at  a  study  of  Monte  Rosa,  from 
Pazzallo,  and  at  the  portrait  of  a  man,  the  only 
pictures  which  were  begun.  The  man  was  a  local 
doctor,  who,  after  the  first  few  visits  and  sittings, 
had  not  reappeared. 

121 


122  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Did  you  know,"  asked  Cortis,  as  he  left  the 
studio,  "that  the  signora  had  written  to  me?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  servant,  in  a  low  voice, 
and  with  an  air  of  mystery.  "  She  told  me  the 
other  day  that  she  had  done  so,  when  your  telegram 
arrived.  She  told  me  so  many  things,  and  cried. 
You  should  have  seen  how  she  cried." 

"What  did  she  tell  you?" 

"  I  can't  remember.  So  many  things.  That 
she  had  not  been  able  to  live  with  her  poor  hus- 
band, and  that  she  had  a  son,  a  gentleman,  to  use 
her  own  words,  and  that  this  son  was  coming  to 
join  her,  and  that  she  had  written  all  sorts  of 
things.  And  then  she  told  me  that  if  you  came 
and  asked  after  the  lady  who  was  ill,  I  was  not 
to  look  surprised,  but  to  say  that  she  was  still  the 
same." 

"  And  what  was  that  you  told  me  this  morn- 
ing?    That  you  don't  get  your  wages?  " 

*'  To  be  sure.  It  is  three  months  since  I  have 
had  a  penny." 

"  And  what  does  the  signora  say?  " 

*'  That  at  present  she  has  no  money,  but  that 
she  expects  some  soon.  She  tells  me  the  same  tale 
every  day,  and  everybody  else  too." 

"  Who  do  you  mean  by  '  everybody  '  ?  " 

"  Ah,  sir,  if  things  go  on  as  they  are  at  present, 
I  shall  leave.  Every  moment  of  the  day  there  is 
some  one  here,  first  one  and  then  the  other,  ask- 
ing to  be  paid ;  either  the  landlord,  or  the  butcher, 
or  the  grocer  or  the  druggist.     And  there  is  no 


THE  POLITICIAN  123 

money  for  them ;  and  then,  you  see,  they  are  mostly 
uneducated  people,  and  they  speak  out  their  minds 
about  it.  I  tell  you  because  I  think,  in  some  cases, 
it  is  better — " 

Barbara  broke  off  at  this  point  in  order  to  fol- 
low Cortis  to  the  door  with  a  light.  He  had  turned 
his  back  upon  her,  caring  little  about  her  conclu- 
sions. 

The  following  morning  he  returned  to  the  house 
and  found  his  mother  up  and  dressed.  He  said  no 
more  about  the  past;  only  wishing  to  know  how 
she  had  learned  his  address  in  Villascura.  She 
would  not  tell  her  informant,  but  told  him  that 
she  had  always  had  the  most  exact  information  of 
the  doings  of  her  dearly  loved  son,  and  that  her 
thoughts  and  her  heart  had  always  been  with  him. 
vShe  spoke  to  him  about  Countess  Tarquinia  and 
Villascura.  She  knew  that  his  house  was  large 
and  badly  kept,  and  she  had  often  thought  how 
lonely  her  poor  Daniele  must  be  there.  Cortis  en- 
couraged her  to  talk  of  the  present,  and  of  her  own 
necessities,  and  she  recounted  a  long  list  of  trou- 
bles. But  her  privations  were  nothing  compared 
to  the  anguish  of  solitude !  It  was  just,  nay,  it  was 
best,  that  suffering  should  come  to  any  one  who, 
like  herself,  had  committed  a  sin,  a  single  fault; 
a  fault  —  if  all  were  known !  if  the  whole  story 
could  be  told !  —  it  was,  so  to  speak,  necessary  to 
suffer;  but  to  suffer  alone,  cut  off  from  all  affection 
or  pity,  no,  that  was  unendurable;  she  could  bear 
that  no  longer ! 


124  THE  POLITICIAN 

At  this  point  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears, 
Cortis  was  silent. 

"  Last  night  —  I  had  —  a  dream !  "  said  the 
signora,  struggHng  with  her  sobs, 

Cortis  was  silent, 

"  Too  beautiful,"  murmured  the  signora,  slowly 
shaking  her  head  and  dangling  her  arm  over  the 
side  of  her  chair. 

"Too  beautiful!" 

Cortis  did  not  display  the  slightest  desire  to 
know  what  it  was. 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  misery  which  ought  not  to 
come  near  you,"  he  said,     "  I  will  see  to  it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  signora,  "  thank  you." 

She  opened  her  mouth,  as  if  to  continue  speak- 
ing, but  apparently  she  changed  her  mind  sud- 
denly. 

"  I  pray  God,"  she  said,  after  a  short  silence, 
"  that  He  will  grant  me  the  favour  of  being  as 
little  trouble  to  you  as  possible.  It  was  He  who 
inspired  me  to  settle  at  Lugano.  I  have  found  here 
the  air  that  will  most  rapidly  kill  me." 

Daniele  in  vain  repeated  to  her  that  she  might 
search  from  the  Alps  to  the  ocean  without  finding 
a  climate  more  suited  to  the  state  of  her  nerves. 
She  returned  each  time  with  more  contrition  and 
more  resignation  to  the  same  tragic  refrain. 

If  the  signora  fondly  dreamed  that,  after  so 
many  vicissitudes  of  storm  and  fine  weather,  she 
was  going  to  brighten  her  miserable  afternoon  with 
a  ray  of  sun,  and  that  this  sun  would  finally  set 


THE  POLITICIAN  125 

in  dignity  and  peace  in  the  drawing-room  of  Cor- 
tis's  house,  she  was  very  much  mistaken;  and  it 
was  pitiful  to  see  her  knocking  again  and  again, 
stealthily,  and  with  vulgar  artifice,  at  a  door  that 
remained  deaf  and  dumb. 

Later  on,  they  went  down  into  the  little  drawing- 
room,  and  talked  business.  Daniele  wished  to  dis- 
cover the  amount  of  his  mother's  debts,  and  it  was 
not  easy  to  do  so,  for,  according  to  her,  not  a 
quarter  of  the  things  which  the  lying  shopkeep- 
ers had  written  down  in  their  bills  had  ever  reached 
her  house.  Fortunately  for  the  latter,  Barbara 
had  a  better  memory,  and,  after  a  long  wrangle  be- 
tween mistress  and  maid,  over  every  item  and  every 
figure,  Daniele  arrived  at  a  conclusion  not  far  from 
correct. 

When  he  w^as  again  alone  with  his  mother,  he 
told  her  that  he  meant  to  leave  the  next  morning, 
and  that  in  a  few  days'  time  he  would  send  her 
money,  and  tell  her  in  what  manner  he  would  pro- 
vide for  her  maintenance  in  the  future.  The  sig- 
nora  asked  when  she  would  see  him  again,  but 
Daniele  could  not  answer  the  question.  It  de- 
pended on  so  many  things,  upon  the  result  of  his 
election,  and  on  other  private  affairs.  Then  she 
began  to  weep  again,  saying  that  he  had  every  rea- 
son for  not  caring  about  her,  she,  for  her  part, 
would  be  willing  to  be  a  servant,  a  scullery-maid 
in  his  house,  but  that  she  knew  she  was  unworthy 
to  be  under  the  same  roof  with  him :  oh,  yes,  in- 
deed she  was  unworthy. 


126  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  do  not  think,"  he  said,  "  that  such  an  ar- 
rangement would  suit  either  you  or  me." 

His  mother  said  nothing  for  a  minute  and  then, 
raising  her  handkerchief  to  her  streaming  eyes,  she 
murmured, — 

"  I  offer  this  sacrifice  to  the  blessed  Virgin." 

Cortis,  furious  with  anger,  went  to  the  window 
of  the  room  to  get  some  fresh  air.  Suddenly  a 
wailing  voice  said  in  his  ear :  — 

"  Have  I  offended  you  ?  " 

He  pretended  not  to  hear.  Through  the  shin- 
ing mulberry  trees  he  was  looking  at  the  garden 
gate,  the  white  road  bathed  in  sunlight,  and  be- 
yond, the  parapet,  the  calm,  deep  lake  and  the 
purple  mountains  of  Val  Colla.  That  pure  air, 
that  glimpse  of  innocent  life,  revived  him.  At  that 
moment  the  train  from  Milan  passed,  thundering 
and  whistling  under  the  heights  of  San  Salvatore. 

Cortis  looked  at  the  clock,  and  asked  his  mother 
if  she  knew  the  exact  time  of  the  first  train. 

"Heavens!"  she  exclaimed,  "what  are  you 
thinking  of?  Come  here,  Daniele,  I  beg  you,"  she 
added,  after  a  moment.  "  It  is  true  that  I  cannot 
speak  to  you  like  a  mother,  but  you,  who  are  an 
angel,  will  perhaps  allow  me  to  ask  you  if  there  be 
any  dear  good  girl  — " 

"  No,"  said  Cortis,  without  turning  around. 

"  I  should  have  been  glad,"  continued  the  signora 
with  a  sigh.     "  But,  then,  I  did  not  expect  it ! 

"  Why?  "  asked  Daniele,  surprised. 


>> 


THE  POLITICIAN  127 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  thought  that  you  could  never 
find  a  woman  worthy  of  you." 

Cortis  leaped  out  of  the  drawing-room  window 
and  disappeared  between  the  mulberry  trees  and  the 
Indian  corn,  out  of  sight  of  his  mother. 

The  latter  took  hold  of  the  corners  of  the  white 
handkerchief  that  she  held,  and  gave  it  such  a  vio- 
lent pull  that  she  tore  it  across. 

"  I  vow  that  I  will  not  stay  in  this  cursed  place," 
she  muttered  between  her  teeth. 

She  hated  Lugano,  because,  at  the  age  of  fifty- 
two,  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  young  doctor; 
and  he  disgusted,  would  not  go  near  her  again. 
She  rose  from  her  chair,  and  opening  a  cupboard 
in  the  wall,  plunged  her  hand  into  it,  swallowed 
something  hurriedly,  and  then  closed  the  door  very 
gently,  keeping  one  eye  on  the  window  all  the  time ; 
then  she  grumbled  to  herself,  "  Now  I  will  go  and 
speak  to  him,"  and  went  in  search  of  Daniele.  She 
soon  met  him. 

"  Daniele,"  she  said,  "  be  patient,  I  have  a 
favor, —  only  one  favor  —  to  ask  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Come  further  away  from  the  house,"  whis- 
pered the  signora,  looking  up  at  the  open  windows. 

They  entered  a  trellised  walk  to  the  left  of  the 
house.  Cortis  did  not  seem  in  the  least  anxious 
to  know  his  mother's  last  whim,  but  walked  beside 
her,  watching  the  train  below  him,  which  was  still 
visible  through  an  opening  of  the  hills. 


128  THE  POLITICIAN 

"That  Villascura,  Daniele!"  she  said,  "that 
Villascura !  "  She  stopped  and  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  hands. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  '  that  Villa- 
scura?'" asked  Daniele  puzzled. 

"Leave  it,  for  Heaven's  sake!"  exclaimed  his 
mother.  "  Live  at  Rome,  or  at  Udine,  or  where 
you  please,  but  not  there." 

"Why?" 

The  signora  dropped  her  eyes,  and  answered,  in 
a  low  voice :  — 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  tell  you." 

"  In  that  case,  what  can  I  do  — "  said  Daniele, 
as  though  he  considered  the  conversation  at  an 
end. 

"  Not  to  please  me?  "  insisted  his  mother. 

Daniele  did  not  understand. 

"But  why?"  he  asked,  looking  at  the  clock. 
He  had  thought  of  going  down  to  the  hotel  pres- 
ently to  inquire  if  any  letters  or  telegrams  had  ar- 
rived. 

"  At  any  rate,"  exclaimed  Signora  Cortis,  with 
sudden  energy,  "  do  not  go  to  Carre's  house." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  voice  which  trem- 
bled with  anger.  "  I  shall  always  go  to  the  Carre's 
house." 

"Oh,  Daniele!  not,  in  any  case,  while  the  Di 
Santa  Giulia  are  there !  "  As  she  said  this,  the 
signora's  face  and  voice  really  seemed  sincere. 

"Very  good,"  returned  Cortis,  with  bitterness; 
"  tell  your  correspondent,  whoever  he  may  be,  that 


THE  POLITICIAN  129 

he  is  a  liar  and  a  fool,  and  that  the  lady  in  question 
and  I  are  too  far  above  him  to  be  hurt  by  his 
malice." 

There  had  been  ill-natured  reports  at  Villascura, 
and  Cortis  knew  it. 

"The  lady?"  said  the  signora,  with  sparkling- 
eyes.     "  I  know  nothing  of  the  lady." 

Cortis,  who  was  looking  away,  turned  his  head 
rapidly,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  her  face,  waited  for 
further  explanations.     But  she  would  say  no  more. 

"Well?  "he  said. 

"  Nothing,"  she  replied,  with  a  sigh. 

Cortis  insisted. 

"  What  has  been  written  to  you?  "  he  asked. 

His  mother  laid  one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and 
with  the  other  beat  her  own  forehead,  saying :  — 

"  It  is  written  here.  No  one  has  told  me.  It  is 
all  written  here." 

Daniele  lost  his  patience. 

"  Speak  plainly,"  he  said;  "  I  am  unable  to  read 
what  is  there." 

"  If  I  were  to  speak  plainly,"  whispered  the 
signora,  raising  her  large  eyes  to  his,  and  extend- 
ing the  forefinger  of  her  right  hand,  "  you  would 
experience  remorse  for  having  taken  the  accursed 
hand  of  that  man!"  (Here  the  finger  was  raised 
towards  Heaven.) 

"What  has  he  done?"  asked  Daniele,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

She  clenched  her  hands,  and  a  deep  groan  came 
from  between  her  closed  lips,  then  she  turned  has- 


130  THE  POLITICIAN 

tily  round  and  ran  away  with  her  head  down. 
When  she  reached  the  steps  leading  to  the  door, 
she  gathered  her  skirts  in  both  hands,  and  rushed 
into  the  house. 

Daniele  followed  her,  but  before  he  had  time 
to  question  her,  she  flew  into  a  violent  rage,  begged 
him  to  say  no  more,  and  promised  to  tell  him  all 
when  she  was  calmer.  Nevertheless,  it  was  his 
duty  to  leave  Villascura  and  go  far,  far  away. 

"  I  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  they  will  make  you 
deputy,  and  then  you  can  establish  yourself  in 
Rome.  I  should  often  see  you  there,  if  it  were 
only  from  the  gallery  of  the  Chamber.  Should  I 
not,  Daniele?  " 

"What  has  Di  Santa  Giulia  done?"  he  asked. 

"  Heavens !  why  should  you  go  on  tormenting 
me?  Surely  your  father  must  have  spoken  to  you 
about  him." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  he  made  his  acquaintance  in 
Piedmont  when  he  went  thither  to  join  the  military 
academy.  'He  brought  letters  of  introduction  to 
him  from  a  Sicilian  doctor,  but  he  very  seldom 
came  to  our  house.  He  was  not  a  bad  soldier,  but 
he  gambled  a  great  deal  and  never  studied  a  bit." 

"  And  now  they  have  made  him  a  senator !  " 
muttered  the  signora  to  herself. 

"  They  made  him  a  senator  immediately  after 
his  retirement  from  the  army,  because  they  wanted 
a  senator  from  his  province,  and  he  possessed  a 
fine  ixame,  a  good  military  record  and  great  influ- 


THE  POLITICIAN  131 

ence.  Surely  you  are  not  making  a  crime  of  that? 
My  father  never  told  me  anything  more  about  him. 
What  else  could  he  have  had  to  tell?  " 

"  Nothing,  nothing ;  he  could  not  have  said 
more." 

Cortis  shrugged  his  shoulders,  glanced  at  the 
clock  for  the  second  time  and  said :  — 

"  I  am  going." 

His  mother  had  no  intention  of  letting  him  go 
so  easily. 

"  You  start  by  the  first  train  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, don't  3^ou  ?  "  she  asked.     "  At  six  o'clock  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  come  here  again." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  her  son  indifferently,  as 
he  hunted  for  his  hat. 

"  Then  we  will  talk  further  this  evening." 

It  appeared  that  all  this  talk  had  cost  a  pain- 
ful effort  on  the  part  of  Signora  Cortis,  for  she 
bowed  her  head  on  her  breast  and  closed  her  eyes. 

Before  leaving  the  room,  Daniele  turned  to  look 
at  her.  Now  that  the  false  eyes  were  hidden,  and 
the  harsh  voice  was  mute,  he  felt  how  dear  she 
might  have  been  to  him.  Suddenly  a  flash  of 
memory  recalled  to  him  his  father  on  his  knees 
teaching  him  to  pray  for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of 
his  dear  mother. 

"  It  was  better  so !  "  he  exclaimed,  seizing  his 
hat. 

The  signora  started,  and  raised  her  head. 


132  THE  POLITICIAN 

"What?"  she  asked. 

"  Nothing,"  answered  he,  and  went  away  with- 
out another  word. 

Barbara  opened  the  gate  for  him,  and  said,  in  a 
low  voice :  — 

"  My  mistress  wall  not  believe  it,  but  everything 
in  the  larder  has  been  eaten  in  the  house.  Only 
think  of  all  the  raw  cutlets  that  she  puts  on  her 
face  at  night !  " 

A  few  minutes  before  Cortis  reached  his  hotel, 
this  telegram  had  come  for  him  from  the  chairman 
of  his  electoral  committee :  — 

"  To  Cortis,  Hotel  du   Panorama,  Lugano. 

"  Opposition  press  prints  your  private  letter,  and 
accuses  you  of  belonging  to  the  clerical  party. 
Great  impression.  To-morrow  meeting  here  of 
electors,  at  one  o'clock.  Come,  or  send  telegram 
for  publication.     Newspapers  follow. 

"  B." 

The  next  train  for  Milan  started  in  three-quar- 
ters of  an  hour.  Cortis  hastily  despatched  a  note 
to  his  mother,  and  the  following  telegram  to  Sig- 
nor  B. : — 

"  Arrive  to-morrow,  1 1  130  a.  m. 

"  Cortis." 

Then,  in  frantic  haste,  he  packed  his  things,  and 
reached  the  station  just  as  the  passengers  were 
taking  their  seats. 


THE  POLITICIAN  133 

"  Partcnza! "  '^  cried  the  conductor  of  the  train, 
in  ItaHan. 

Until  that  moment  Cortis  had  thought  of  noth- 
ing but  how  to  catch  his  train.  As  soon  as  he 
took  his  seat,  he  saw  himself  in  the  hall  at  the 
public  meeting.  His  friends,  amazed  or  angry, 
possibly  would  be  there,  also  some  of  his  mocking 
adversaries ;  he  should  be  alone,  assailed  by  weap- 
ons which  he  himself  had  forged,  with  words  that 
as  yet  he  did  not  know,  which  he  had  certainly 
written  in  all  sincerity,  but  who  knows  when  or 
where.  He  determined  to  attempt  no  evasion,  no 
denial,  no  retraction ;  although  compelled  to  fight 
under  a  new  flag,  at  a  time  and  in  a  place  not 
chosen  by  himself.  He  saw  all  this,  and  yet  he 
felt  as  though  a  flood  of  vital  fire  filled  his  heart. 
His  courage  rose  higher  than  ever,  and,  as  he 
seated  himself  upon  the  red  velvet  seat,  with  a 
certain  haughty  indifference,  he  mentally  answered 
to  the  conductor,  "  Go  ahead!     I  am  ready!  " 

As  the  train  rushed  over  the  bridge  which  crosses 
the  road  leading  to  Pazzallo,  his  thoughts  turned 
for  an  instant  up  the  hill,  but  they  did  not  get  as 
far  as  the  little  house  with  the  red  railings,  in 
which,  during  the  last  few  hours,  he  had  heard  such 
strange  words,  and  where  he  had  failed  to  discover 
the  hidden  meaning  of  the  accusation  that  had  been 
made.  His  thoughts  turned  back  to  the  road 
which  was  carrying  him  on  towards  his  goal. 

1  Ready. 


134  THE  POLITICIAN 

Meanwhile,  the  sheet  of  water  to  the  east,  black 
with  wind,  spread  itself  out  gradually,  unfolding 
before  him  till  it  reached  the  very  foot  of  that  lofty 
peak,  which  rose  in  all  its  height,  towering  above 
the  other  mountains,  and  giving  him  an  example 
of  enduring  boldness. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN    THE    FIELD 

The  following  morning,  at  the  end  of  his  long 
trip.  Cortis  found  B.  and  several  other  friends,  who 
had  come  to  meet  him.  They  were  rushing  anx- 
iously up  and  down  the  train,  opening  doors  and 
looking  inside  the  railway  carriages.  When  at 
last  they  discovered  Cortis,  they  all  scrambled  to 
shake  his  hand,  greeting  him  in  low  voices  and 
with  every  appearance  of  sympathy. 

"  Does  it  look  bad?  "  he  inquired,  looking  round 
him  at  their  somewhat  blank  faces. 

"  As  bad  as  can  be,"  answered  B.  dejectedly. 
"  I  am  honest  with  you,  and  I  tell  you  clearly  that 
I  consider  the  game  is  lost." 

*'  Gently,  gently,"  broke  in  another.  "  Excuse 
me,  but  I  don't  think  everything  is  lost  yet." 

Then  B.,  wdio  had  spoken  at  first  as  though  he 
had  no  breath  left  in  his  body,  got  up  and  began  to 
storm  like  a  madman. 

"  The  game  is  lost,  I  tell  you !  You  don't  think 
so?  What  do  you  mean  with  your  '/  don't  think 
so?'  Where  do  you  come  from?  Don't  you 
know,  from  the  Society  of  Labour  and  from  the 
newspapers,  that  the  game  is  lost  ?  " 

"  And  from  the  walls,"  suggested  a  third. 

135 


136  THE  POLITICIAN 

"Bravo!"    yelled    B.     "And    from    the    walls. 
Ten  manifestoes  .of  our  opponents'  to  one  of  ours!  " 

"  You  will  see  to-day !  " 

"  That's  all  very  well ;  but  what  do  you  expect  to 
see  to-day  ?  " 

"  You  will  see  what  you  will  see." 

"  Ah,  yes !  you  think  you  are  going  to  alter  all 
those  people,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  No." 

Then  they  began  to  fight  and  argue  among  them- 
selves, as  if  Cortis  had  not  been  present. 

"  One  moment,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  making  his 
voice  heard  above  the  rest.  "  Is  this  meeting  to 
take  place  or  not?  " 

"  Yes  —  of  course  —  certainly,"  were  the  an- 
swers. 

"  And  am  I  not  to  take  part  in  it?  "  he  asked. 

"That  is  the  very  point,  you  see,"  cried  B.,  fac- 
ing him,  and  leaning  his  face  on  his  clenched  fin- 
gers. "  That  was  one  difficulty  when  we  invited 
you  to  attend.  Some  said  that  it  was  unnecessary, 
others  said  they  knew  enough,  others  again  — " 

"  But  this  letter,"  asked  Cortis,  "  this  letter  of 
mine  that  has  been  printed?  " 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  B.,  striking  his  forehead,  and 
then  fumbling  in  every  pocket.  "  What  a  memory 
I  have  I  I  came  here  on  purpose  to  show  it  to  you. 
I  have  it  here  somewhere." 

Out  came  letters,  papers,  notes.  B.,  red  as  a  lob- 
ster, looking  through  them  all  in  haste,  throwing 


THE  POLITICIAN  137 

them  on  the  floor  of  the  carriage,  or  the  window 
ledges,  or  the  knees  of  his  friends.  At  last  he 
pulled  out  a  newspaper  clipping  containing  the  fa- 
mous letter  addressed  to  a  certain  professor  at 
Venice,  who  had  been  dead  two  months.  The  ed- 
itor declared  that  he  had  received  it  officially,  and 
published  some  remarks  upon  it. 

"  The  letter  is  a  pretext,"  said  B.,  collecting  his 
scattered  letters  and  papers,  "  It  is  a  pretext. 
They  don't  like  you." 

"  \\'ell,"  said  another,  "  but  if  it  could  be  shown 
that  the  letter  is  not  his  ?  " 

"  But  it  is,"  muttered  another,  while  Cortis,  skip- 
ping the  editor's  comments,  came  upon  these  terri- 
ble passages :  — 

"  If  for  the  present  we  can  do  nothing,  transcat, 
we  must  try  to  get  on  as  we  are;  but  you  know 
that  I  am  a  Catholic,  and  that  I  trust  in  the  pro- 
gressive development  of  Christian  civilization  in 
which  Cavour  trusted.  For  that  reason  I  look  for- 
ward to  the  time  when  a  parliamentary  party  shall 
be  formed  holding  this  ideal  as  an  element  of 
government.  It  must  needs  be  that  some  of  the 
attempts  to  move  public  opinion  in  this  direction 
will  fail;  you  even  better  than  I,  know  that  this 
has  always  been  the  historical  preparation  for  every 
great  and  difficult  enterprise.  Many  may  fall,  but 
I  am  convinced  that  the  moment  will  come  when 
this  party,  the  effect  of  political  necessities,  will 
rise,  and  that  then,  if  not  before,  the  hero,  as  your 


138  THE  POLITICIAN 

beloved  Carlyle  would  say,  will  be  found  to  lead 
it;  behind  that  hero,  either  in  the  front  rank  or  in 
the  last,  will  be  found,  if  he  be  alive,  your  af- 
fectionate, 

"  Daniele  Cortis." 

"  Of  course  it  is  mine!  "  exclaimed  Cortis  to  the 
man  who  had  expressed  a  doubt.  "  Of  course  it  is 
mine !     Altogether  mine !  " 

"  Alas!  "  said  B.,  "  I  feared  as  much." 

The  rest  were  silent. 

"And  what  do  the  electors  say?"  asked  Cortis. 

"What  do  they  say?"  answered  B.  "Look  at 
your  paper,  and  you  will  see  what  they  say." 

"  The  editor  is  an  ass !  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  the  voters  of  our  section 
are  not  Cavours.  They  don't  understand.  They 
say  Catholic,  Christian  civilisation,  nezv  parlia- 
mentary party  —  they  do  not  see  clearly  the  dis- 
tinction that  may  be  drawn  between  conservative 
and  clerical!  They  make  the  greatest  fuss  over 
your  phrase,  '  we  must  try  to  get  on  as  we  are,' 
and  they  declare  —  forgive  me  for  repeating  what 
I  hear  —  that  it  is  disloyal  and  dishonest  in  you, 
that  you  only  want  to  be  elected  by  whatever 
means,  and  that  you  are  making  game  of  the  vot- 
ers and  so  on  indefinitely.  Besides,  you  must  un- 
derstand, your  opponent  has  been  working  like  the 
devil,  and  to  the  people  he  has  influenced,  your 
letter  appears  a  pretext.  They  will  refuse  to  listen 
to  you." 


THE  POLITICIAN  139 

"  But  they  must,  they  shall  hear  me!  "  cried  Cor- 
tis,  his  eyes  flashing.  "  What  in  the  world  can 
they  have  understood  from  that  letter?  They  must 
hear  me !  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  they  must,"  grumbled  B.,  with 
a  sarcastic  laugh.  "  But  we  shall  see  whether  they 
will,  or  not,  all  the  same.  We  must  hope  for  the 
best." 

"  I  shall  appear  before  them  alone,  and  without 
invitation,  if  my  friends  have  not  the  courage  to 
accompany  me,"  said  Cortis.  "  And  if  no  one  asks 
me  to  speak,  I  shall  do  it  without  the  asking. 
And — ?"  here  Cortis  named  a  great  man,  who 
was  one  of  his  strong  supporters. 

"  Ah,  my  friend,"  answered  B.,  "  this  repre- 
sents his  condition,"  and,  raising  his  right  hand, 
with  his  fingers  apart,  he  let  it  swing  slowly  to  and 
fro  from  his  wrist,  as  if  the  muscles  of  his  fore- 
arm were  useless.  "  As  far  as  he  is  concerned," 
he  continued,  "  we  are  all  in  the  same  boat.  Re- 
member that,  if  you  speak  to-day,  you  must  make 
an  allusion  to  that  despot  who  pretends  to  order 
rain  and  fine  weather  for  the  whole  division." 
,  "  Good,"  said  Cortis;  "  now,  I  would  beg  you  to 
let  me  think  a  little." 

He  retreated  to  a  corner  of  the  railway  car,  and 
read  over  and  over  again  the  accusations  against 
him,  then  he  began  to  reflect,  sometimes  looking 
out  of  the  window,  and  sometimes  burying  his  face 
in  his  hands,  till  at  last  B.  said  to  him :  — 

Here  we  are.     It  is  now  twelve  o'clock.     My 


(( 


I40  THE  POLITICIAN 

carriage  is  here,  and  I  will  drive  you  home,  and 
let  you  get  some  luncheon  while  I  go  and  see  how 
things  are.  At  one,  I  will  come  to  you,  and  we 
will  go  at  any  rate.     Oh,  look  at  this  fellow !  " 

As  Cortis  was  getting  out  of  the  train,  his  oppo- 
nent was  being  met  on  the  platform  by  a  crowd  of 
friends,  wiio  were  all  talking  and  laughing  loudly. 

"Do  you  see  them?  Do  your  hear  them?" 
asked  B.,  in  solemn  voice.  "  They  are  sure  of  their 
victory !  " 

One  of  the  group  noticed  Cortis.  They  all 
turned  and  stared  at  him,  as  though  to  see  which 
could  be  the  most  insolent.  Just  as  he  and  his  com- 
mittee were  passing  through  the  gates  of  the  sta- 
tion, a  few  hisses  were  heard  in  the  background. 

"  Wait  here  for  me,"  said  Cortis,  stopping  short. 

He  turned  back  quietly,  and  going  straight  to- 
wards the  other  candidate,  who  had  one  foot  on 
the  step  of  his  car,  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to 
him.  He  did  not  notice  the  others  any  more  than 
if  they  had  not  existed.  His  opponent  grew  crim- 
son, greeted  him  with  evident  confusion,  and 
clumsily  excused  himself  for  not  having  seen  Cor- 
tis sooner. 

"  Not  at  all !  "  answered  the  latter.  "  I  do  not 
demand  any  recognition  from  you.  But,  as  a  gen- 
tleman and  a  friend  of  gentlemen,  I  wish  to  go 
through  the  ordinary  forms  of  courtesy  with  my 
adversary  before  we  cross  swords.     Good-bye." 

Having  said  this,  he  passed  haughtily  through 


THE  POLITICIAN  141 

the  group  and  rejoined  B.  and  the  others,  who  had 
watched  the  scene  from  a  distance. 

"What  is  it;  what  happened?"  they  all  asked, 
looking  pale  and  anxious. 

"  Nothing;  let  us  go  away,"  answered  Cortis, 
taking  B.'s  arm.  "  I  merely  showed  him  and  his 
friends,  with  the  most  careful  politeness,  that  they 
are  a  lot  of  cads.  Now  they  respect  me,  do  you 
see.  And  besides,  it  always  does  me  good  to  call 
a  man  a  cad  who  deserves  it." 

Twenty  minutes  later  every  one  in  the  little  town 
had  heard  of  the  scene  at  the  station,  of  the  hissing 
and  of  what  Cortis  had  done.  B.,  who  had  just 
left  him  at  his  house,  hurried  away  to  the  cafe. 
He  came  back  at  one  o'clock  to  fetch  him,  crying 
breathlessly :  — 

"  Quick !  come  on,  the  impression  is  good.  I 
have  arranged  with  the  heads  of  the  party.  Your 
feint  —  for  that  is  what  your  opponents  call  it,  un- 
der their  breath  —  your  feint  has  made  a  good  im- 
pression. A  gentleman,  they  say.  Then  I  lec- 
tured some  of  the  miserable  beings  who  don't  mean 
to  listen  to  you.  What  idiots  they  are !  But  I 
gave  it  to  them !     I  gave  it  to  them !  " 

Cortis  interrupted  him  by  saying,  with  a 
smile :  — 

"  Thanks.  But  are  you  sure  that  you  will  be 
pleased  with  what  I  am  going  to  say?  " 

"  I  won't  have  that  cad  at  any  rate,"  screamed 
B.     "Quick,  now,  come  along!" 


142  THE  POLITICIAN 

Outside,  a  cabman  who  was  frequently  employed 
by  Countess  Tarquinia  stopped  Cortis.  The 
countess  was  very  anxious  to  speak  to  Signor  Dan- 
iele,  and  she  had  ordered  him  to  wait  and  bring 
him  over  to  Passo  di  Rovese  immediately  after 
the  meeting.  Cortis  told  him  to  be  in  readiness  at 
half-past  two. 

"  Nothing  new?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  They  are  all  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  think  so." 

"  And  the  contessina?  " 

"  The  little  countess  went  away  last  night,  sir. 
I  heard  that  she  was  going  to  Rome." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  B.,  seeing  Cortis  stand  as  if, 
without  speech  or  motion,  in  a  dream.  "  Come 
along!  quick!  " 

On  the  steps  of  the  hall  where  the  meeting  was 
to  be  held,  groups  of  voters  were  already  collected. 
They  opened  their  ranks  as  Cortis  approached,  sa- 
luting him  in  a  manner  expressing  both  curiosity 
and  coldness;  then  forming  behind  him,  they  ad- 
vanced in  silence  to  the  hall.  There  they  found 
three  or  four  members  of  the  electoral  committee 
talking  near  a  long  bench  that  faced  narrow  rows 
of  empty  chairs,  which,  to  Cortis,  seemed  stiff  and 
unfriendly.  When  he  entered,  these  men  ad- 
vanced towards  him  with  some  shyness  and  em- 
barrassment. 

"  You  have  come  from  Switzerland  ?  "  asked  the 
boldest. 


THE  POLITICIAN  143 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

"  It  is  a  fine  country." 

"  It  is  indeed." 

Then  B.,  with  his  most  smiHng  and  pleasant 
manner,  advanced  and  said :  — 

"  Our  friend  Cortis  is  quite  prepared." 

"  That  is  not  the  word,"  broke  in  Cortis." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  other,  making  many  ges- 
tures of  agreement,  and  drawing  back  so  as  to 
make  room  for  the  principal  actor.  "  That  is  not 
the  word.  I  am  most  anxious  to  offer  to  the  elec- 
tors those  explanations  to  which  they  are  fully  en- 
titled ;  and,  as  my  candidacy  has  already  been  dis- 
cussed and  talked  over  in  this  place,  I  have 
considered  it  my  duty,  since  I  must  speak  some- 
where, to  speak  here." 

"  Here  is  our  president,"  answered  one  of  the 
committee,  pointing  towards  a  tall,  stout  man,  who 
came  in  breathlessly  just  at  that  moment,  and  who 
greeted  Cortis  with  much  more  cordiality  than  the 
others  had  displayed.  When  they  asked  him  to 
repeat  to  the  president  what  he  had  just  said  to 
them,  the  latter  interrupted  them,  and  said :  — 

"  Yes,  yes ;  it's  all  right.  I  have  settled  all  that 
with  our  friend  B.  here."  He  then  sent  his  col- 
leagues to  assemble  and  bring  the  electors  into  the 
hall. 

"  The  four  muffs,"  murmured  B.  to  Cortis,  who" 
was  studying  the  roof. 

*•'  If  I  may  advise  you,"  said  the  president,  tak- 
ing  Cortis   aside,    "  I   should   speak   in  this   man- 


144  THE  POLITICIAN 

ner,"  and  he  primed  him  with  a  little  speech  that 
he  had  prepared,  while  he  kept  one  eye  upon  his 
interlocutor  and  the  other  upon  the  people  who 
were  crowding  in,  dropping  his  voice  involuntarily 
at  the  appearance  of  any  hostile  face. 

B.  had  taken  up  a  position  close  by,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  catch  all  that  fell  from  the  president 
without  appearing  to  listen;  but  he  also  did  not 
lose  sight  of  one  face  that  entered,  studying  each, 
observing  them  as  they  took  their  seats,  leaning 
his  head  first  towards  one  and  then  towards  an- 
other with  the  manifest  desire  of  overhearing  every 
whisper. 

"  A  lot  of  people,"  he  said  to  Cortis,  when  the 
president  had  taken  his  place,  "  and  some  nasty- 
looking  ones  among  them  too !  Will  the  president's 
speech  do?  " 

The  latter  rang  his  bell  at  this  moment,  and 
looked  round  him  with  great  dignity,  and  without 
the  faintest  idea  that  many  people  were  laughing 
at  him.  He  reminded  his  hearers  that  on  a  prev- 
ious occasion  the  candidacy  of  Cortis  had  been  sup- 
ported by  a  large  majority  and  that  therefore  the 
committee  had  approved  his  canvas.  He  added 
that  a  recent  publication,  well  known  to  all,  had 
produced  such  conflicting  impressions,  that  it  had 
been  considered  necessary  to  call  this  meeting.  To 
tell  the  truth,  there  had  been  some  discussion  as  to 
the  advisability  of  asking  the  honourable  Signor 
Cortis  to  address  them,  as  it  was  known  that  he 
was  at  a  distance.     It  had  been  proposed  to  dis- 


THE  POLITICIAN  145 

cuss  merely  whether  the  candidate  should  be  asked 
to  limit  himself  to  explanations  or  not.  The  un- 
expected arrival  of  Signor  Cortis  had  removed  all 
these  doubts,  and  the  committee  felt  certain  that  the 
voters  would  rather  have  the  public  statements  of 
the  candidate  himself  than  mere  extract  from  a 
letter.  Then,  without  opposition,  he  called  upon 
Signor  Cortis  to  address  the  meeting. 

The  president  seated  himself,  and  looked  smil- 
ingly around  in  hopes  of  catching  signs  of  appro- 
bation on  the  faces  of  his  colleagues.  Nobody 
spoke  for  a  moment,  then  Cortis  rose  and  began, 
in  a  deliberate  voice, — 

"  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy,  and 
congratulate  you  upon  having  been  willing  to  listen 
to  me  to-day.  I  neither  complain  nor  boast  be- 
cause my  enemies  have  committed  a  dishonest  ac- 
tion ;  it  was  natural  to  them,  and  I  willingly  leave 
in  obscurity  those  who  did  it  in  company  with  their 
deeds  and  names.  I  know  that  a  letter  of  mine 
has  been  published  — " 

A  murmur  arose  in  the  hall. 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,"  continued  Cortis,  while  his 
friends  looked  at  him  with  anxious  faces,  "  a  letter 
which  without  fearing  to  lower  myself,  I  acknowl- 
edge as  mine." 

Some  one  in  a  corner  of  the  hall  cried,  "  Listen, 
listen,"  and  then  all  was  silent  again. 

"  A  letter  of  mine,  susceptible  of  grave  misinter- 
pretation, and  liable  to  destroy  the  confidence  of 
those  who  dread  to  see  the  introduction  into  the 


146  THE  POLITICIAN 

Chamber  of  elements  hostile  to  our  institutions  and 
liberties,  has  been  published ;  and  one  effect  of  this 
has  been  that  some  of  you,  gentlemen,  whose  honest 
fears  I  respect,  have,  as  I  have  just  heard  from  our 
honorable  president,  strong  objections  to  listening  to 
me.  Well,  gentlemen,  I  congratulate  you  upon  hav- 
ing allowed  the  more  liberal  and  just  side  of  your 
natures  to  prevail,  notwithstanding  the  unworthy  in- 
terpretation that  has  been  put  upon  some  of  my 
words.  I  repudiate  the  charges  of  disloyalty  that 
have  been  brought  against  me,  and  I  deny  that  I 
could  possibly  wish  to  make  game  of  the  electorate 
of  this  division. 

"  Yes,  I  wrote  privately,  and  I  now  repeat  pub- 
licly, without  hesitation,  that,  if  for  the  moment 
we  cannot  change  for  the  better,  we  must  try  to 
get  on  as  we  are ;  and  I  am  sure  that,  if  you  read 
my  letter  again,  you  will  see  at  once  that  no  allusion 
whatever  could  have  been  intended  to  this  electorate, 
but  that  I  alluded  to  the  present  condition  of  our 
national,  political  existence :  a  condition  which,  in 
my  opinion,  is  neither  prosperous  nor  promising, 
but  through  which  we  must  pass  in  order  to  reach 
something  better,  keeping  always  before  ourselves 
a  higher  ideal." 

The  same  voices  again  cried,  "  Bravo."  There 
were  a  few  cries  of  "  Silence,"  and  some  subdued 
titterings.  All  eyes  were  turned  toward  one  cor- 
ner of  the  hall. 

"  I  thank  my  unknown  friend,"  said  Cortis,  look- 
ing in  the  same  direction,  and  winning  fortunately. 


THE  POLITICIAN  147 

a  friendly  laugh  from  his  audience,  "  I  thank  my 
unknown  friend  who  sets  me  a  good  example.  He 
expresses  the  conviction  of  his  heart,  and  like  my- 
self does  not  mind  doing  it  at  the  cost  of  being 
'  J^ox  clamantis  in  deserfo.'  " 

Laughter  and  some  quickly  suppressed  applause 
followed.  Cortis  stopped  a  moment;  when  he 
spoke  again,  it  was  in  a  somewhat  lower  tone :  — 

"  I  come  now  to  the  ideal  I  mentioned." 

He  bent  his  head  in  thought.  No  one  breathed. 
Every  eye  was  fixed  on  him  when  he  raised  his 
head  and  began  again :  — 

"  No,  gentlemen,  my  political  ideal  will  never  be 
that  of  any  party  which  would  desire  to  subordinate 
the  interests  and  rights  of  the  State  to  any  authority, 
which  however  great,  however  legitimate,  is  founded 
on  another  basis,  and  maintained  by  other  means 
for  other  ends.  I  might  wish,  in  my  scheme  for 
political  equilibrium  and  internal  pacification,  that 
this  party  should  honestly  accept  the  present  state 
of  things,  and  should  try  to  be  useful  in  the  Cham- 
ber; but  if  I  ever  have  the  honor  of  representing 
you,  I  shall  not  fight  on  its  side  — " 

Here  and  there  some  applause  was  heard,  not 
warm  nor  unanimous;  the  unknown  friend  re- 
mained  silent. 

"  Until  it  has  been  transformed  from  an  essentially 
clerical  party  into  an  essentially  civil  party,  and  has 
modified  entirely  its  views  upon  the  rights  and  du- 
ties of  the  State. 

"  It  is  evident,  gentlemen,  that  in  writing  an  in- 


y 


148  THE  POLITICIAN 

timate  letter,  I  could  not  have  made  use  of  more 
clear  and  exact  words." 

At  this  point  a  murmur  rose  in  the  hall  which 
sounded  like  "  At  last !  "  in  tones  of  not  unmixed 
satisfaction.     Cortis  went  on :  — 

"  No,  I  do  not  repudiate  anything  I  have  said, 
but  I  might  have  been  more  precise  in  the  expres- 
sion of  it.  I  might  have  made  my  views  as  clear 
in  my  letter  as  I  shall  try  to  make  them  now  to 
you. 

"  It  is  you,  electors  under  the  old  law,  who  to- 
day hold  in  your  hands  the  great  power  of  the 
State;  but  there  are  people  who  are  already  preach- 
ing a  new  gospel,  and  to-morrow  you  too  may  be 
called  upon  to  evangelise  the  populace.  It  is  wrong 
to  anticipate  that  these  new  electors  will  disturb 
the  existing  state  of  things,  and  that  the  country 
will  go  to  rack  and  ruin ;  but  it  would  be  foolish 
not  to  recognize  that  there  will  be  taken,  not  a  leap 
in  the  dark,  but  a  long  step  forward  on  the  clear 
and  fatal  road  of  democratic  evolution.  The  newly 
enfranchised  multitudes  will  surely  strive  to  pro- 
cure for  themselves  some  direct  advantage  from 
their  participation  of  the  government.  They  will 
try  undoubtedly  to  promote  legislative  action  which, 
though  exaggerated  and  imprudent,  will  be  ex- 
clusively for  their  own  benefit.  For  myself,  gentle- 
men, I  feel  no  empty  or  childish  fear  of  this.  I 
believe  that  in  this  democratic  fermentation  there 
is  some  leaven  snatched  from  Christianity.  I  have 
in  my  mind  a  bright  ideal  of  a  Christian  democracy, 
one  also  capable  of  results  very  different  from  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  149 

despotism  of  selfish  majorities  only  greedy  for  their 
own  advancement  which  now  threatens  our  modern 
Hberty.  A  real  political  party  cannot  be  founded 
on  imaginary  ideals.  I  know  well  that  they  will 
bear  no  weight.  But  we  must  have  an  ideal ;  in 
ideals  lies  the  strength  of  those  who  seek  to  de- 
stroy our  institutions ;  and  what  ideals  have  we  to 
oppose  to  theirs?  One  day  it  is  electoral  reform, 
and  the  abolition  of  the  exchange  upon  the  paper 
currency;  another  day  it  is  the  equalization  of  the 
land  tax,  and  the  maintenance  of  the  *  rents  '  at 
par." 

"  And  isn't  that  enough  ?  "  asked  a  voice. 

"  No,"  retorted  Cortis,  "  it  is  not  enough  to  keep 
hearts  and  minds  united, 'much  less  will  it  suffice 
for  an  enlarged  electoral  body  in  which  sentiment 
and  emotion  will  play  an  important  part.  And 
when  you  talk  to  me  of  a  new  party,  whose  ideal 
shall  be  merely  the  preservation  of  the  existing 
social  and  political  ranks,  then  again  I  reply  that 
it  is  not  enough,  and  that  such  an  ideal  would  be 
without  grandeur  and  without  life.  You  cannot 
uphold  our  country,  gentlemen,  as  you  would  an 
old  monument,  by  girdling  it  with  iron  railings 
and  supports;  our  country  is  a  living  creature,  an 
organism  continually  working  and  developing  it- 
self, and  which,  by  the  reasonable  use  and  proper 
exercise  of  its  natural  faculties,  keeps  itself  in 
good  health." 

At  these  words,  uttered  in  a  passionate  voice, 
loud  cheers  burst  from  the  audience. 

"  I  desire,"  continued  Cortis  quietly,  "  to  see  the 


ISO  THE  POLITICIAN 

founding"  of  a  party  which  will  keep  before  it  the 
shining  ideal  that  I  have  described,  and  which,  in 
order  to  produce  this  result,  shall  expressly  consent 
to  the  present  state  of  our  requirements.  I  am 
convinced  that,  if  you  wish  to  pave  the  way  for  a 
sincere  liberal  democracy,  without  the  predominance 
of  any  class,  you  must  have  a  political  power  suf- 
ficiently strong  to  lead  the  country;  and  no\^  a 
fixed  idea  is  necessary,  if  it  were  only  to  stand 
against  the  rising  tide  of  "parliamentary  majorities. 
You  must  have  ministers  convinced  that  the  mon- 
archy is  not  a  hazy  myth;  that  it  is  not  merely 
a  gilded  coat  of  arms  on  the  summit  of  our  con- 
stitutional mechanism;  they  must  feel  that  it  is  a 
reality  for  which  we  are  answerable  to  God  and 
history,  and  which,  by  a  natural  law,  will  soon  spoil 
and  rust  if  it  be  unused.  Then  the  mighty  power, 
certain  of  widespread  support  in  the  country,  can 
and  should  be  bold,  and  allowing  full  liberties  to  all 
opinions,  it  can  take  the  vexed  social  questions  in 
hand  and  lead  in  every  reform  with  caution,  modera- 
tion and  firmness. 

"  There  are  writers  of  great  talent  — " 

Here  some  murmurs  came  from  the  audience.  It 
seemed  as  though  the  word  "  writers  "  made  them 
restless  and  cast  a  feeling  of  weariness  over  them. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Cortis,  interrupting  him- 
self, "  if  I  am  trespassing  too  long  upon  your  pa- 
tience — " 

Some  cries  of  "  No,"  rather  courteous  than  cor- 
dial, were  his  answer. 


THE  POLITICIAN  151 

"  I  remember,"  he  went  on  claiming  the  attention 
of  his  Hsteners,  "  that  a  man  of  great  genius,  who 
had  ■  carefuHy  studied  pohtics,  once  said  to  me : 
*  The  people  are  like  a  child ;  let  them  play  with 
the  fire,  let  them  burn  their  fingers,  and  they  will 
learn.  This  is  a  law  of  nature,  and  if  you  try 
to  change  it,  you  only  make  things  worse.'  Well, 
gentlemen,  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  this  doctrine 
is  right.  I  say  that  the  law  of  nature  teaches  that 
those  with  sense,  will,  and  power,  ought  to  band 
together  to  prevent  the  others  from  setting  fire  to 
their  common  dwelling." 

"  That's  true  enough,"  cried  several  voices. 

"  But  it  is  not  enough  that  the  party  of  the  fu- 
ture should  be  of  one  mind  upon  these  questions 
of  government  alone;  it  must  also  agree  upon  the 
religious  and  ecclesiastical  question." 

"  Now  we  are  coming  to  it !  "  exclaimed  his  un- 
known  friend  in  the  corner. 

Every  one  repressed  him,  and  Cortis  went  on 
in  a  silence  which  seemed  charged  with  elec- 
tricity :  — 

"  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  that  no  monarchy  and 
no  republic,  will  ever  succeed  in  solving  the  social         y 
problems  of  the  future,  without  the  co-operation  of 
religious    sentiment,    which    in    Italy,    can   only   be 
given  by  the  Catholic  Church," 

A  wave  of  feeling  passed  over  the  audience,  and 
nothing  could  be  heard  save  murmurs,  groans  and 
confused  voices. 

Cortis,  leaning  with  both  hands  on  the  seat  in 


152  THE  POLITICIAN 

front  of  him,  threw  his  body  forward,  as  though 
to  receive  the  shock  of  an  enemy.  He  waited  till 
the  tumult  had  subsided  and  then  went  on  in  his 
firm  and  measured  voice :  — 

"  The  curia  of  Rome,  gentlemen,  and  a  large 
portion  of  the  Catholic  clergy,  have  displayed,  I 
regret  to  say,  so  blind  a  hatred  for  our  national 
movement  —  such  a  fatal  love  of  their  temporal 
possessions  —  that  any  one  who,  in  Italy,  talks 
of  favoring  Catholicism,  may  almost  expect  to  be 
answered  as  the  missionary  in  Africa  was  who 
preached  about  God:  'And  what  if  he  eats  us^' 
I  have  frequently  asked  myself  whether  the  present 
violent  reaction  against  the  Church  and  her  insti- 
tutions, by  bringing  back  the  clergy  to  poverty  and 
evangelical  humility,  by  forcing  them  to  study  and 
to  lead  blameless  lives,  may  not  be  productive  of 
results  very  salutary  for  the  true  Catholic  senti- 
ment. But  a  prudent  statesman  ought  to  discover 
in  such  an  excessive  reaction  the  danger  that  those 
opinions  which  inculcate  respect  of  law\  and  broth- 
erly love  do  not  degenerate  into  a  kind  of  moral 
subordination  of  the  more  favored  classes  to  those 
less  rich,  whose  demand  for  assistance  to  repair  all 
the  social  injustice  and  misery  is  more  vigorous 
than  is  quite  desirable. 

"  The  party  of  the  future,  therefore,  must,  to 
a  certain  extent,  agree  to  the  rigid  application  of 
our  common  law  to  the  Church. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  how  far  I  should  go  on  this 
road.     I   am   already   too   dear  to  your  venerable 


THE  POLITICIAN  153 

clergy.  And  I  have  no  intention  of  offering  them,, 
in  expiation  of  my  poHtical  sins,  either  blessed  med- 
als, or  lives  of  saints,  or  increased  stipends." 

An  ironical  smile  twinkled  in  his  eyes,  as  he  thus 
alluded  to  certain  events  in  his  history.  The  hall 
rang  with  laughter  and  cheers. 

"  But,  on  the  other  hand,"  continued  Cortis,  rais- 
ing his  forehead  and  wrinkling  his  brow,  "  we  must- 
agree  with  the  principle  laid  down  by  the  Count  Ca- 
vour,  in  a  memorable  speech  upon  the  abolition  of 
the  Ecclesiastical  Court,  namely,  that  the  progress 
of  modern  society  demands  the  assistance  of  re- 
ligion and  liberty.  We  must  require  that  religious 
instruction  shall  be  given  by  the  clergy,  however 
it  please.  We  need  not  stupidly  imagine  that  we 
are  sinning  against  liberty  because  we  refuse  to 
pay  professors  of  atheism  -out  of  State  funds ;  we 
must  recognize  all  religious  associations  whose  ob- 
jects are  not  contrary  to  law;  guarantee  to  all 
persons,  without  exception,  the  full  and  complete 
exercise  of  their  religious  rites  in  public  and  in 
private,  and  abstain  from  any  legal  or  forcible 
interference  with  the  internal  affairs  of  the  Church, 
save  the  right  of  guardianship  of  property.  The 
government  must  always  show,  by  its  behaviour, 
that  it  places  value  upon  the  spirit  of  religion." 

The  phrase  relative  to  instruction  and  religious 
associations  were  the  only  ones  that  moved  the 
audience,  who  allowed  the  rest  of  this  rugged  sen- 
tence to  pass  in  silence. 

'•'You   murmur,    gentlemen,"    exclaimed    Cortis; 


154  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  but  I  can  picture  to  myself  the  very  friendly  re- 
ception that  I  should  receive  from  a  meeting  of 
priests,  if  I  ever  had  the  honor  (I  certainly  should 
have  the  courage)  to  tell  them  what,  in  my  opinion, 
is  the  policy  of  the  priesthood  best  calculated  to 
secure  the  advancement  of  the  Catholic  religion. 
Your  rare  interruptions  recall  to  my  mind  some- 
thing that  I  learned  at  school.  I  remember  hear- 
ing a  description  given  of  large  banks  of  living 
shells,  which  lie  on  the  sea  shore,  and  open  in  the 
sunshine,  sending  forth  a  deep  murmur  whenever 
a  cloud  obscures  the  sun,  and  closes  them  up.  Al- 
low me  to  believe  that  you  have  found  in  my  ideals 
more  sun  than  shadow. 

"  I  must  admit  to  you  that  I  do  not  consider  the 
time  to  be  quite  ripe  for  the  formation  of  this  party 
of  the  future,  and,  therefore,  there  was  not  yester- 
day, nor  is  there  to-day,  any  reason  for  including 
its  basis  in  an  electoral  programme,  especially  as 
foreign  complications,  combined  with  our  ecclesias- 
tical policy,  might  compel  the  State  to  be  temporarily 
less  liberal  in  its  judicial  dealings  with  the  Church. 
I  should  not,  therefore,  have  mentioned  it  had  it 
not  been  brought  into  prominence  by  this  recent 
publication,  and  if  your  wish  had  not  been  law  to 
me. 

"  Desirous  of  obeying  you,  I  did  not  consider,  I 
disdained  to  consider,  the  risk  that  my  too  open  and 
plain-spoken  declarations  might  deprive  me  of  the 
honor  of  entering  parliament  as  your  representative. 
In  that  letter  of  mine,  I  made  an  ill-omened  quota- 


THE  POLITICIAN  155 

tion;  the  sentence  about  the  development  of  Chris- 
tian civihzation  was  written  by  Count  Cavour  in 
an  address  to  the  electors  of  Vercelli,  who  rejected 
him.  It  is  probable,  if  I  may  compare  myself  with 
so  shining-  an  example,  that  the  same  fate  is  in 
store  for  me.  While  I  am  grateful  to  those  among 
you  who  have  trusted  me,  I  shall  feel  no  resentment 
whatever  against  such  as  have  withdrawn  their  con- 
fidence. 

"  I  hear  talk  of  high  influence  being  brought  to 
bear  in  my  favor ;  I  have  never  begged  for  this,  nor 
shall  I  beg  now.  If,  in  this  division,  you  have  de- 
ities who  can  move  the  earth  with  their  nod,  I  do 
not  wish  that  it  should  be  said  of  me,  as  it  was  said 
of  a  Roman  emperor  on  the  point  of  losing  life  and 
power :     ''  Alicni  jam  imperii  fatigahat  deos.' 

"  If,  at  the  conclusion  of  this  struggle,  I  am 
beaten,  I  shall  not  be  disgraced;  and  I  shall  re- 
member, gentlemen,  that  in  every  free  country  there 
are  representatives  unelected,  legislators  not  in  par- 
liament ;  that  there  are  many  methods  whereby  every 
citizen  can  fight  for  what  he  thinks  politically  right, 
and  that  a  dumb  black  or  white  ball  in  the  ballot- 
box  is  not  the  only,  or  even  the  most  powerful, 
way  of  securing  the  supremacy  of  truth." 

The  first  rows  of  the  audience,  immediately  below 
the  speaker,  applauded ;  from  the  others  arose  a  roar 
of  diverse  opinions.  The  president  alone  seized  Cor- 
tis  by  the  hand,  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  somewhat 
with  the  manner  of  a  master  pleased  with  an  in- 
dustrious pupil :  — 


156  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Bravo,  bravo !  Very  frank  and  very  clear. 
Fine  ideas,  noble  ideas." 

Cortis,  pale  and  grave,  only  answered :  — 

"  Now,  it  is  for  you  to  decide,  gentlemen,"  and 
left  the  hall,  followed  by  B.  and  some  few  friends. 

"  Your  servant,  sir,  your  servant,"  said  his  un- 
known supporter,  pushing  a  way  for  himself  through 
the  crowd,  and  seizing  his  hand  just  as  he  was  reach- 
ing the  door.  "  I  congratulate  myself  upon  having 
heard  you,"  he  continued.  He  was,  a  fine  looking 
man,  with  a  ruddy  countenance  and  bushy  white 
whiskers.  "  You  are  a  great  man,  sir,  and  you  are 
not  a  bit  a  clerical ;  you  are  religious  and  so  am  I  — 
Doctor  Franceschi,  at  your  service.  And  don't  be 
afraid  that  w-e  shall  leave  you  in  the  lurch  whatever 
that  d — d  fool,  the  deity  of  our  division,  may  say. 

The  bystanders  laughed.  Cortis  bowed,  and 
passed  on  with  his  friends. 

"  Well,"  he  said  as  soon  as  they  were  outside  the 
hall,  "  I  am  not  a  bit  pleased.  What  do  you 
think?" 

"You  humbug!"  said  B.,  seizing  him,  "I  must 
embrace  you." 

They  all  embraced  him  at  once,  suffocating  him 
with  fulsome  adjectives. 

"  The  part  that  pleased  me  the  most  was  that 
about  the  shells,"  said  one;  "  it  was  magnificent." 

"  And  I  liked  what  you  said  about  our  country," 
said  another,  "  when  you  compared  it  to  a  slowly 
development  monument !  Nobody  can  deny  that 
that  is  a  splendid  idea !  " 


THE  POLITICIAN  157 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  B.  "  The  oysters  and  the 
medals  were  both  good,  but  the  great  point  of  this 
speech  Hes  in  the  ideas  expressed  in  it.  The  ideas 
ace  new  and  burning  —  worthy  of  Bismarck ! 
Strength  and  progress!  Throne,  altar,  gallows  and 
forward!  " 

"No,  no,  no,"  cried  Cortis;  "what  the  devil  do 
you  mean?  " 

"  Oh  no,  signor,"  observed  the  man  who  had 
talked  about  the  oysters,  while  B.  muttered  to  him- 
self, "  we  understand  each  other,  we  understand 
each  other!  Why,  Signor  Cortis  wishes  to  abase 
the  throne,  to  drag  it  down  from  its  lofty  place 
among  the  clouds :  to  drag  it  down  from  the  clouds 
he  said,  and  to  make  the  king  responsible  as  the 
ministers  are ;  that  seems  quite  fair  too  1  " 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  exclaimed  Cortis,  "  did  I  ex- 
press myself  so  badly  as  that  ?  " 

All  the  others  rose  against  this  disgraceful  critic. 
They  would  have  torn  him  to  pieces  almost. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  observed  B.  presently,  "  we 
ought  to  be  going  in  again.     Don't  you  think  so?  " 

In  the  hall  a  great  uproar  was  going  on,  notwith- 
standing the  frequent  and  angry  ringing  of  the  pres- 
ident's bell.  B.  promised  Cortis  that  he  would  send 
him  word  to  Villascura  that  evening  of  the  result 
of  the  deliberations  of  the  meeting. 

"  What  do  you  think  they  will  settle  on  ?  "  asked 
Cortis.  "'  To  me  they  seemed  cold  enough  to  take 
away  my  breath." 

"  Yes,"  answered  B.,  "  they  were  cold,  but  less 


158  THE  POLITICIAN 

so  than  I  feared  they  would  be.  Besides,  many  of 
them  were  puzzled  at  the  beginning,  and  could  not 
pick  up  the  thread  again.  You  were  rather  above 
them.  Do  you  know  of  what  I  am  afraid?  Of 
that  closing  sentence  of  yours  about  legislators  out- 
side of  parliament.  People  might  say  that  the 
electorate  —  I  don't  know  if  I  make  my  meaning 
clear." 

"  Above  them,  no,"  said  another ;  "  it  was  not  too 
elevated,  even  in  its  idea.  I  will  explain  myself :  of 
course  it  was  elevated,  but  we  could  understand  it 
perfectly.  Perhaps,  you  might  have  put  in  a  word 
about  our  external  policy,  about  our  army  and 
navy." 

"Are  you  never  coming?"  groaned  B.,  raising 
his  eyes  to  heaven.  "  Do  come  along ;  we  must  go 
back ;  do  make  haste !  " 

Cortis  descended  the  steps  alone.  At  the  bot- 
tom he  was  met  by  Signor  Checcho  Zirisela,  who 
said :  — 

"  Your  servant,  sir,  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  stop 
now;  an  absolute  king,  if  you  like,  but  I  am  satisfied 
to  play  at  cards  with  the  priests  and  then  to  have 
done  with  them.  You  know  I  am  speaking  for  my- 
self. Priests  in  a  drinking  place  are  very  well,  but 
not  in  church  — ^  your  servant,  sir." 

"Cortis!"  cried  B.,  from  the  top  of  the  steps, 
"  when  shall  we  see  you  again?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  It  depends  upon  what  my  aunt 
wants." 


THE  POLITICIAN  159 

"  Oh,  send  her  to  glory !  We  haven't  time  for 
aunts  now." 

,The  cab  driver  who  was  waiting  in  the  court- 
yard went  to  meet  Cortis,  hat  in  hand, 

"  You  may  harness,"  said  the  latter;  "  where  are 
your  horses  ?  "  • 

"  At  the  '  Golden  Shield.'  " 

"  I  will  be  there  immediately." 

Cortis  walked  to  the  "  cafe."  The  corners  of  the 
streets,  deserted  at  this,  the  hottest  hour  of  the  day, 
were  covered  with  electoral  addresses.  His  own 
were  few  in  number,  and  were  for  the  most  part 
concealed  by  the  flaring  posters  of  his  opponent, 
which  nearly  all  began  thus :  "  Do  not  vote  for 
enemies  of  our  country,"  Near  the  door  of  the 
"  cafe  "  there  was  scribbled  on  the  wall :  "  Down 
with  the  people  of  Friuli !  " 

Cortis  entered  somewhat  excited,  A  group  of 
young  men  were  discussing  the  meeting,  and  one 
proposed  to  go  and  wait  for  the  "  Little  Saint 
Paul  "  Cortis  at  the  door  of  the  hall,  in  order  to 
hiss  him.  The  rest  agreed,  Cortis  meanwhile  sip- 
ped his  coffee  in  silence. 

"  And  we  will  hiss  B,  too,"  said  one  of  the  group. 

Cortis  stood  up  very  pale, 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  said. 

The  other  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  and  an- 
swered in  a  positive  voice  :  — 

"  Won't  we?     Who  are  you  to  dictate  to  us?  " 

"  I  am  a  man,"  thundered  Cortis,  "  who,  if  I  say 


V 


i6o  THE  POLITICIAN 

'  no  '  to  you,  and  to  a  hundred  like  you,  do  not 
expect  to  get  'yes'  for  an  answer,  unless  you  are 
prepared  to  feel  your  face  — " 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence,  but  in  order  to 
make  way  for  himself  threw  down  tables,  chairs 
and  all  that  was  on  them,  and  finally  stopped  in 
front  of  his  adversary,  w^ith  his  arms  crossed  on 
his  breast.  The  proprietress  shrieked,  the  waiters 
hurried  up;  the  rest  of  the  party  were  so  taken  by 
surprise  that  they  did  not  know  whether  they  stood 
on  their  heads  or  their  heels.  Cortis,  seeing-  that 
the  other  neither  moved  nor  spoke,  threw  his  card 
to  one  of  the  waiters  who  was  picking  up  the  broken 
pieces. 

"  I  wnll  pay  for  everything,"  he  said,  "  including 
a  glass  of  brandy  that  you  would  better  give  to  that 
gentleman." 

And  he  left  the  "  Cafe." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  was  in  the  carriag^e, 
on  his  way  to  Villascura,  and  thinking  of  Elena. 
He  felt  ill  at  ease  and  disturbed:  disgusted  with 
himself,  with  politics,  with  his  obstinate  enemies  and 
his  stupid  friends,  with  the  anger  he  had  shown 
to  some,  and  the  toleration  he  had  shown  to  others. 
Italy!  Yes,  but  if  he  did  not  succeed  to-day,  he 
would  to-morrow.  It  was  his  destiny,  and  his  de- 
termination; but  what  would  he  not  give  for  one 
day  of  love !  To  forget  everything  for  one  day,  to 
forget  the  world,  and  to  unite  her  the  most  beauti- 
ful to  himself  the  most  powerful!  Visions  of  in- 
tense happiness  passed  before  him.     From  the  road 


THE  POLITICIAN  i6i 

which,'  passed  straight  through  the  plane  trees,  on 
the  border  of  an  immense  plateau  watered  by  the 
blue  streams  from  the  Alps,  the  eyes  of  Cortis 
sought  greedily  the  shadowy  clouds  which  hung  on 
the  edge  of  the  mountains.  He  could  see  Elena  and 
himself  hidden  in  a  house  amongst  those  deserted 
wilds.  Elena  happy  in  his  love  did  not  look  mel- 
ancholy as  she  often  did.  Now  he  felt  her  arms, 
fresh  and  gentle  as  those  streams,  encircling  him; 
now  he  sought  her  in  the  forest,  and  she  came  to 
meet  him,  laying  her  head  on  his  breast,  and  saying 
to  him:     "Art  thou  happy?     I  am!" 

Cortis  leaned  back  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  and 
looked  at  the  distant  horizon  across  which  she  had 
vanished.  • 


,    CHAPTER  IX 


"  VOICES  IN  THE  DARK  " 


Countess  Tarquinia  was  much  disturbed.  As 
soon  as  Elena  was  gone,  she  desired  a  conference 
with  her  brother-in-law;  but  how  was  it  possible 
in  the  midst  of  this  confusion?  And,  besides. 
Count  Lao  had  vanished  suddenly.  At  midnight, 
when  the  band  had  taken  itself  off,  and  the  lights 
were  all  out,  the  countess  remained  alone,  not  dar- 
ing to  go  and  attack  him  in  his  own  room.  She 
went  to  him  in  the  morning,  and  found  him  in  bed 
with  a  headache,  looking  so  black,  and  so  cross  that 
she  could  do  nothing  with  him.  He  cursed  the  noise 
and  the  illuminations;  he  knew  nothing,  had  heard 
nothing,  had  given  nothing,  had  taken  part  in  noth- 
ing. 

"  So,"  said  the  countess,  dismayed.  "  they  went 
off  without  either  money,  or  letter,  or  promise?" 

Count  Lao,  notwithstanding  the  pain  in  his  head, 
raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture  in  bed,-  and 
cried .  — 

"  Yes ,  and  I  should  not  care  if  they  had  gone  to 
hell!  And  now  don't  stay  here  to  bOre  me  any 
longer !     Get  out  of  my  sight !  " 

162 


THE  POLITICIAN  163 

The  countess  ran  away,  banging  the  door  behind 
her  in  her  wrath. 

"  What  an  old  bear!  "  she  said. 

So  Elena  had  deceived  her!  And  she  had  de- 
ceived her  husband  too !  And  certainly  she  had  had 
some  understanding  with  her  uncle.  Now  she 
saw  it  all !  It  was  a  stratagem  of  Lao's  to  save  his 
money,  and  of  Elena's  to  prevent  a  family  scene. 
She  ought  to  have  been  told  about  it !  But  where 
did  Elena  get  her  energy?  She  had  hitherto  al- 
ways disregarded  questions  of  money,  and  had  never 
taken  the  smallest  pains  to  avoid  family  quarrels! 
She  must  have  had  some  secret  reason  for  her  con- 
duct. And  what  was  it?  It  was  enough  to  drive 
one  mad!  And  now  what  would  that  beast  of  a 
son-in-law  of  hers  do?  He  was  capable  of  any- 
thing? She  had  known  nothing  about  it.  All  these 
disturbing  celebrations  and  people  had  left  her  no 
time  for  anything  else.  And  now  she  was  alone, 
for  Grigiolo  and  Malcanton  were  gone; alone  with 
that  old  toad  of  a  brother-in-law  of  hers,  and  she 
was  without  any  one  to  help  or  advise  her!  What 
in  the  world  had  become  of  Cortis?  He  would  be 
better  than  nobody.  How  ill  she  felt!  And  the 
garden  and  the  house  annoyed  her  because  of  their 
untidiness.  There  was  nothing  left  but  disgusting 
dregs,  out  of  which  all  the  pleasure  had  been 
squeezed !  The  beds  of  mignonette  and  vanilla 
around  the  house  were  all  trampled;  the  fir  trees 
and  the  meadows  were  littered  with  half-burnt  pa- 
pers; even  the  billiard-room  was  all  daubed  with 


i64  THE  POLITICIAN 

glim  from  the  horrible  balloons  that  Grigiolo  had 
made  there!  And  now  every  room  in  the  house 
reeked  of  stale  cigars! 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  driver  came  to  the  door,  ac- 
cording to  orders.  The  countess  had  forgotten 
all  about  it.  She  had  other  things  to  think  of 
besides  paying  visits!  She  was  just  going  to  dis- 
miss him,  when  she  heard  shouts  of  "  Your  serv- 
ant! your  servant,"  and  in  the  field  she  saw  little 
black  Don  Bartolo,  in  his  .three-cornered  hat,  and 
with  his  bamboo  cane.  He  had  come  to  return  the 
decorations  from  the  church  of  St.  Peter,  and  to 
drink  a  glass  of  white  wine.  The  countess  asked 
him  at  once  if  he  knew  anything  of  Cortis.  To  be 
sure  he  did.  Doctor  Picuti  had  just  returned  from 
the  chief  town  of  the  division  with  all  the  last  polit- 
ical news.  Advertisements  of  a  public  meeting  to 
be  held  that  day  were  out,  and  Cortis  was  expected 
to  be  present.  Signor  Zirsela  had  gone  into  town 
with  the  idea  of  hearing  him. 

"  I  believe,"  added  the  priest,  "  that  he  has  tele- 
graphed to  his  bailiff  from  Milan,  and  that  they 
expect  him  home  to-morrow."  » 

It  was  then  that  it  occurred  to  Countess  Tar- 
quinia  to  send  the  cab  to  meet  him.  She  had  great 
faith  in  Daniele  Cortis.  He  would  tell  her  what 
to  do,  and  would  give  her  good  advice;  while  that 
selfish  wretch  Lao  could  think  of  nothing  but  his 
aches  and  pains. 

"  Of  course,  countess,  you  know  where  that  stay- 


THE  POLITICIAN  165 

at-home,  Signor  Daniele,  has  been?"  suddenly 
asked  Don  Bartolo. 

"  I  do  not,"  answered  she  drily. 

"  How  strangely  things  are  divided  in  this 
world !  "  exclaimed  the  priest,  rising.  "  Why,  here 
is  a  real  countess  who  does  not  know  something  that 
the  poor  housekeeper  of  the  priest  knows." 

"  Well,  where  has  he  been  ?  " 

"  Now,  now ;  of  course  you  know ;  you  are  only 
laughing  at  me,  countess.  Do  you  not,  really?  He 
has  been  to  Lugano.  And  do  you  know  what  he 
has  found  there?  Why,  no  less  a  person  than  his 
sainted  mother,  whom  they  have  always  tried  to 
make  us  believe  was  dead,  and  who  now  turns  out 
to  be  alive,  the  great  — " 

The  countess  did  not  show  much  surprise.  She 
had  always  doubted  her  death;  and  as  she  very 
cordially  hated  everything  to  do  with  her  sister-in- 
law,  she  was  rather  glad  that  Cortis  should  have 
said  nothing  to  her. 

"  How  did  it  become  known  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  was  known  that  he  had  gone  to  Lugano ; 
because  his  servants  at  Villascura  had  orders  to 
forward  letters  or  telegrams  there.  It  was  the 
parish  priest  who  knew  about  his  mother.  It  ap- 
pears that  she  writes  to  him  sometimes." 

"What  about?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  To  show  that  she  still 
has  good  manners,  perhaps  —  pray  don't  go  away !  " 

The  usual  clinking  of  glasses  was  heard  as  the 


1 66  THE  POLITICIAN 

tray  was  brought.  The  countess,  having  sent  away 
the  keys  of  the  chapel,  left  Don  Bartolo  to  enjoy 
a  pleasant  glass  of  white  wine,  on  the  balcony,  in 
the  cool  breeze. 

"  I  must  get  ready,"  said  he,  "  and  then  I  shall 
be  off  immediately." 

She  went  up  to  Elena's  room,  remembering  that 
she  had  promised  to  restore  to  Cortis  a  book  that 
had  been  left  on  the  table.  She  entered  the  empty 
room,  and  was  somewhat  moved  to  see  how  coldly 
neat  everything  looked,  and  how  sadly  Elena's  be- 
loved roses  were  hanging  their  heads  at  her  win- 
dow. The  book  was  there  on  the  table.  The 
countess  remembered  having  seen  it  several  times  in 
her  daughter's  hands.  She  looked  at  the  title  page : 
Chateaubriand  —  Memoires  d'Outretomhc.  She  did 
not  know  it.  It  was  probably  some  sad,  deep  book. 
Elena  preferred  that  kind  of  t-eading.  Daniele 
Cortis  had  written  his  own  name  on  the  first  page. 
The  countess  looked  at  it  for  some  time,  and  then 
said  to  herself,  with  a  sigh :  "  He  wanted  Elena !  " 

But,  in  this  matter,  she  really  was  not  to  blame. 
When  Daniele  first  began,  perhaps,  to  think  about  it, 
Elena  was  a  girl  who  had  grown  up  prematurely 
and  who  was  wholly  unattractive  to  most  young 
men.  Then  he  had  gone  away,  and  the  other  one 
had  made  his  appearance.  It  had  seemed  a  good 
marriage,  and  one  that  promised  well. 

She  opened  the  table-drawer.  It  contained  noth- 
ing but  an  old  torn  visiting  card  of  Elena's.  But  it 
bore  on  it,  besides  her  name,  a  few  words  scrawled 


THE  POLITICIAN  167 

in  pencil,  which  had  been  obliterated,  and  were  now 
illegible. 

It  came  to  the  countess  instinctively  that  the  se- 
cret reason  that  governed  Elena's  conduct  could  not 
be  discovered  by  her  in  any  manner,  save  perhaps 
through  that  obliterated  writing,  whence  a  voice 
seemed  to  reach  her. 

Towards  four  o'clock  horses  and  wheels  drove 
noisily  up  to  the  portico.  The  countess  rushed  to 
the  door  to  receive  Cortis,  who  jumped  out.  She 
seized  both  his  hands.  How  grateful  she  was  to 
him.     With  what  warmth  she  received  him! 

"  Poor  beasts,"  grumbled  the  driver,  looking  at 
his  horses. 

"  Well,"  said  Cortis  anxiously,  "  are  you  alone  ?  " 
^    "  Very  much  so,  my  dear  boy." 

Scarcely  had  they  entered  the  house  when  the 
countess  began  to  weep.  Cortis  did  not  know  what 
to  think." 

"  My  dear  aunt,"  he  said,  "  what  is  the  matter?  " 

The  aunt  hesitated  before  replying.  Presently  a 
bell  was  heard  ringing  two  or  three  times. 

"Nothing,"  she  said;  "it's  nothing;  it's  perhaps 
only  my  weakness.  Still  I  feel  convinced  that  there 
is  something  very  wrong,  Daniele,  and  I  did  not 
know  when  I  should  see  you  here,  and  be  able  to 
talk  to  you  and  hear  what  you  would  say.  Do  you 
remember  the  evening  of  the  storm,  when  you  were 
coming  from  Lao's  room,  and  met  me  just  by  the 
door  of  the  hall  ?  Do  you  remember  that  there  was 
tears  in  my  eyes  ?  " 


i68  THE  POLITICIAN 

Then  she  began  to  relate  many  things  to  Cortis 
of  which  he  already  knew  a  large  part;  how  em- 
barrassed for  money  her  son-in-law  was,  his  de- 
mands, the  difficult  family  question  that  had  been 
raised  thereby,  Lao's  inflexibility,  her  own  suffer- 
ings. 

"  Signora,"  said  the  maid,  coming  in  at  this  mo- 
ment, "  the  count  heard  the  carriage  and  desired 
to  know  who  had  arrived,  and  now  begs  that  Signor 
Daniele  will  go  to  him  at  once." 

"  Good  gracious !  "  exclaimed  the  countess,  dis- 
pleased, "  I  never  get  a  chance  of  two  words  with 
you.  He  has  a  bad  headache,  I  warn  you.  Signor 
Daniele  will  come  in  a  minute.     Wait  a  little." 

She  finished  her  story,  but  she  did  finish  it  in  furi- 
ous haste.   Neither  Cortis  nor  she  noticed  at  first  that 

* 

the  bell  was  ringing  more  violently  than  ever,  and 
that  her  maid  had  come  back  and  was  waiting  on 
the  threshold. 

"  Signor  Daniele,"  the  maid  ventured  at  last, 
timidly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  go  to  him,  in  Heaven's  name !  "  ejacu- 
lated the  countess,  "  only  make  haste  and  come  down 
again,  because  I  want  you." 

Before  Cortis  had  reached  the  staircase,  the  door 
of  the  vera*ndah  was  pushed  violently  open,  and 
Saturn  dashed  in,  barking  and  leaping  for  joy. 
Behind  Saturn  came  the  bailiff  of  Villascura  and 
two  other  persons.  The  bailiff  had  heard  from  Don 
Bartolo  that  Cortis  was  expected  at  Villa  Carre, 
and  so  he  had  come   for  his  orders,  and  also  to 


THE  POLITICIAN  169 

bring-  with  him  two  gentlemen  who  were  the  secre- 
taries of  the  communes  of  A.  and  B.  and  who  were 
most  anxious  to  talk  to  him.  Cortis  shook  hands 
with  them,  and,  begging  thera  to  wait  a  few  min- 
utes, went  to  Count  Lao's  room. 

On  the  stairs  he  was  joined  by  the  maid,  who 
said : — 

"  Signor  Daniele."  He  turned  around.  "  May 
I  speak  to  you  about  my  young  mistress?  "  she  con- 
tinued. "  I  haven't  spoken  to  the  countess,  because 
—  poor  thing!  " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Yesterday  I  was  helping  her  to  pack  her  trunks. 
'  Bettina,'  she  said,  '  I  fear  we  shall  never  meet 
again.'  'What  do  you  mean,  signora?'  said  I. 
'  Why  should  we  not  meet  again  ?  I  intend  to  live 
for  several  years  yet,'  I  said.  *  That  may  be,'  says 
she ;  *  but  I,  Bettina,  shall  not  come  back.  I  am 
going  far  away,'  says  she.  '  But  you  will  come 
back?  '  I  said.  'Why  should  you  not  come  back?  ' 
'  I  don't  know,'  says  she.  Do  you  think  now,  Signor 
Daniele,  that  the  countessina  would  have  said  all 
this  without  good  reason?  Heaven  knows  what 
she  may  have  got  into  her  head,  poor  dear!  Only 
think.  A  minute  later  she  takes  up  a  book,  stands 
looking  at  it  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  trembling 
like  a  leaf  all  the  time,  puts  it  down  at  the  bottom 
of  the  trunk,  and  then,  when  the  trunk  i^quite  full, 
nothing  will  satisfy  her  but  she  must  open  it,  take 
out  everything  till  she  comes  to  her  book,  then  she 
writes  a  note  and  puts  it  in*  the  book.     Then  she 


I70  THE  POLITICIAN 

leaves  the  room,  and  comes  back  suddenly  in  a 
great  hurry,  tears  up  her  note,  and  writes  another 
instead." 

Daniele  made  no  feply,  but  entered  Lao's  room. 
Darkness,  heat  and  the  odor  of  camphor  stopped 
him  at  the  door. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  dear  Daniele,"  said  the  count's 
voice;  "'  light  a  match.  The  candle  is  on  the  floor, 
behind  the  bed." 

"  How  are  you?  "  asked  Cortis,  gently. 

"  Bad,  but  no  matter.     And  how  — " 

At  that  moment  Cortis  struck  a  match,  which 
flamed. 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  murmured  Lao.  "  I  could  have 
told  you  so  beforehand.  That  woman  could  only 
change  for  the  worse." 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  that  presently,"  answered 
Cortis. 

"  Good,  and  the  election  ?  " 

"  Bad,  too." 

Cortis  lighted  the  candle,  and  could  at  last  dis- 
tinguish Lao,  who,  lying  on  his  bed,  pale,  with  his 
head  tied  up,  and  his  eyes  half  closed,  was  saying  in 
a  low  voice, 

"Pigs!" 

Cortis  pressed  his  hand. 

"  I  will  leave  you  quiet,"  he  said. 

Lao  detained  him,  and  asked  if  he  had  told  him 
of  the  trouble  of  the  previous  day. 

"  I  advise  you,"  he  said,  "  to  do  nothing  without 


THE  POLITICIAN  171 

first   asking  me.     Good-bye.     What   time   is   it  ? " 

"  Ten  minutes  to  five." 

"  Give  me  my  pills.  There  4hey  are  on  the 
table." 

He  took  a  pill  of  valerian  and  quinine,  and  letting 
his  head  fall  again  on  the  pillow,  muttered,  as  Cortis 
was  leaving  the  room.     "  Pigs!  " 

Cortis  went  down  hastily  to  the  secretaries,  who 
were  waiting.  They  brought  good  news  from  the 
mountains.  Up  there,  people  did  not  care  a  bit  for 
what  the  town  thought.  On  the  contrary,  there 
was  a  great  jealousy  existing  between  the  mountain 
and  the  plain  —  a  keen  antagonism.  All  the  same, 
it  would  be  well  if  Cortis  would  go  up  there  the 
next  day,  just  to  show  himself.     He  promised. 

All  this  time  Countess  Tarquinia  was  coming  and 
going,  throwing  impatient  glances  at  Cortis  and  his 
political  friends. 

"  At  last !  "  she  said,  when  the  latter  were  gone. 
She  gave  the  Chdtcauhriand  to  Cortis,  who  did  not 
remember  having  lent  the  book  to  Elena  and  opened 
it  with  curiosity.  He  found  one  of  his  cousin's 
cards  inside,  bearing  the  words :  "  With  many 
thanks  and  greetings." 

"  By-the-bye,"  said  the  countess,  "  I  will  go  and 
fetch  you  another  card  that  was  on  her  table."  " 

Now  Cortis  began  to  understand  the  maid's  story. 
This  was  the  book  which  Elena  had  at  first  packed 
with  so  much  emotion ;  with  an  emotion  that  "was 
so  jealously  concealed  in  her  last  note,  after  the 


172  THE  POLITICIAN 

first  rush  of  repentance.  Perhaps  it  appeared  too 
plainly  in  her  first  letter,  and  she  did  not  wish  to 
betray  herself. 

The  countess  returned  with  the  note.  It  was 
impossible  to  make  anything  out  of  it.  Cortis  tried 
in  vain,  and  handed  it  back  to  the  countess  with 
apparent  indifference  and  without  a  word. 

"  I  wrote  to  her  this  morning,"  said  the  countess ; 
"  but  I  can't  help  wondering  what  has  happened, 
or  what  will  happen  when  her  husband  learns  that 
he  has  been  deceived.     A  wretch  like  that !  " 

The  countess  talked,  groaned,  wept  and  talked 
again,  confusing  in  her  lamentations  the  past,  the 
present  and  the  future.     Cortis  answered  nothing. 

"  If  I  were  a  man,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  think  I 
should  have  gone  after  her.  Do  you  think  I  can 
ask  any  one,  Daniele,  to  do  me  this  favor?  " 

Cortis  had  not  heard  the  question,  and  had  to 
ask  her  to  repeat  it.  The  countess  bewailed  his 
inattention,  and  accused  him  of  having  no  thought 
for  anything  but  his  election. 

But  still  he  did  not  see  why  he  should  run  after 
the  Di  Santa  Giulias.  And  besides,  for  three  days, 
without  counting  the  all-important  Sunday,  he  could 
not  leave  home. 

They  dined  together  in  the  cool  north  room  which 
looks  toward  the  firs  of  the  garden  and  the  bare 
rocks  of  Monte  Barco. 

"  And  I  must  stay  here  in  this  melancholy 
plight,"  said  the  countess.  "  Who  knows  when  I 
shall  be  able  to  drag  him  up  to  town  ?  " 


THE  POLITICIAN.  173 

Then,  neither  spoke  again  till  the  end  of  dinner. 
When  the  servant  left  them  to  fetch  the  coffee,  the 
countess  clasped  her  hands  and  said : — 

"  At  least,  write  to  her." 

He  bowed  in  token  of  assent. 

"  I  will  write  to-night,"  he  said  suddenly,  like 
one  awaking  from  a  dream. 

The  countess  thanked  him  heartily.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  her  that  there  could  be  any  risk  in  encour- 
aging a  correspondence  between  her  daughter  and 
Cortis.  She  had  such  perfect  confidence  in  both 
of  them,  and  saw  that  they  were  so  different  from 
the  frivolous  and  corrupt  people  amongst  whom 
she  had  learned  what  love  was.  They  were  only 
capable  of  an  airy  sentiment  at  best,  which  seemed 
to  her  somewhat  ridiculous. 

"Scold  her!"  she  said;  "write  that  no  scene 
with  her  husband  <:ould  have  been  more  displeasing 
to  me  than  what  has  happened.  Say  that  she 
ought  to  have  spoken  clearly  and  distinctly  to  her 
uncle,  and  to  have  asked  him  to  make  the  sacrifice. 
She  has  never'spoken  to  him  at  all,  you  know.  Say 
(I  have  said  it  to  her  once,  but  you  can  repeat  it) 
that  she  shall  have  the  money  somehow  or  other, 
and  that  she  may  tell  her  husband  so  at  once." 

The  servant  reappeared  with  the  coffee,  and  a 
letter  for  Cortis  from  B.,  which  had  been  brought 
by  special  messenger.     He  wrote : — 

"  A  line  in  haste,  from  the  benches  of  the  electoral 
meeting.     Excited  discussion  followed  your  speech. 


174  THE  POLITICIAN 

Your  opponents  accuse  you  of  clericalism  and 
masked  absolutism,  or  at  any  rate  of  belonging  to 
no  party,  because  those  that  exist  do  not  suit  you, 
and  your  own  is  not  yet  formed.  The  ballot  showed 
forty-six  votes  in  your  favor  and  fifty-eight  against. 
Great  confusion.  Every  one  will  vote  accordmg  to 
his  pleasure.  Your  friends  will  fight  to  the  last, 
and  even  longer  for  you.  News  from  the  moun- 
tains assure  that  a  visit  from  you  will  be  attended 
by  great  results.  "  B." 

"  Election?  "  asked  the  countess  when  Cortis  had 
finished  reading ;  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer 
she  went  on :  "  To-morrow  you  must  give  up  the 
whole  day  to  me.  Either  my  brother-in-law  must 
be  persuaded  to  give  this  money,  or  else  I  must  find 
it  in  some  way.     In  any  case,  you  must  help  me." 

Cortis  replied  that  it  was  out  of  the  qyestion. 
He  had  to  start  at  dawn  for  the  mountains,  and  he 
could  not  be  sure  of  reaching  home  again  in  the 
evening.  The  countess  had  a  fit  9f  weeping.  He 
remained  firm  and  cold  as  ice. 

Seeing  that  he  could  win  the  election,  he  felt  it 
his  duty  to  fight.  Every  sentiment,  even  that  of 
love,  disappeared,  went  down  without  a  struggle, 
in  the  presence  of  the  clear  and  distinct  vision  of 
duty.  He  rose,  and  promising  to  write  to  Elena 
that  night,  he  went  to  Villascura. 

As  he  passed  the  little  rose  covered  house  in 
which  was  Elena's  studio,  he  thought  of  an  evening 
twelve  years  ago,  on  which  Elena,  coming  from  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  175 

meadow  to  her  room,  with  a  red  flower  in  her  hair, 
and  flaming  cheeks,  had  said :  "  Oh,  Daniele,  how 
I  have  run,"  and  then  she  ran  on  again,  sending 
out  a  silvery  laugh  into  the  air.  Now  the  meadow 
was  deserted,  the  studio  closed  and  she  far  away. 
And  she  loved  him,  and  suffered,  and  was  miser- 
able. Cortis  picked  a  rose  growing  near  the  door 
of  the  studio.  "  Elena,"  said  he,  "  I  beg  thee  of 
God." 

And  after  that  he  thought  no  more  about  her 
and  began  to  talk  to  Pittantoi,  whom  he  met  carry- 
ing some  cray-fish  up  to  the  house.  Only  late  that 
evening  he  returned  to  the  thought. 

After  he  had  written  a  dozen  notes  in  his  own 
room,  with  Saturn  at  his  feet,  he  rang  for  his  serv- 
ant, and  ordered  that  they  should  be  sent  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning.  Then,  having  dismissed  him, 
he  took  a  large  sheet  of  paper  and  began  to  write 
hurriedly : — 

"  ViLLAScuRA,  June  30TH,  1881. 
"  Elena, —  I  expected  to  find  you,  your  voice, 
your  face,  your  heart;  I  have  found  your  thanks 
and  your  greetings.  What  had  you  written  in  the 
note  that  your  mother  found  in  your  room  ?  What 
was  it,  Elena,  that  you  wished  to  destroy  and  ob- 
literate? I,  who  am  writing  in  this  great  empty 
barn  of  Villascura,  with  my  head  tired  and  my  heart 
full  of  bitterness,  feel,  notwithstanding  your  treas- 
ured thanks  and  greetings,  that  your  soul  is  here, 
near  me. 


176  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  It  would  have  been  better  had  my  mother  been 
really  dead.  I  need  say  no  more  to  you.  It  will  be 
difficult  for  me  to  see  her  again  yet  awhile.  I  will 
provide  for  her  suitably,  but  from  a  distance.  Do 
you  know  what  remains  in  my  heart  ?  The  memory 
of  my  father,  which  is  more  bright  and  clear  than 
ever. 

"  I  came  away  in  haste  from  Lugano  on  account 
of  my  election,  which  is  going  on  wheels.  I  am 
sorry  for  my  poor  friends  whose  livers  will  suffer, 
that  is  to  say,  those  who  have  any !     I  came  direct 

from  Lugano  to  .     At  the  station  they  hissed 

me,  but  then  I  made  a  speech  to  the  voters,  and 
later  I  offered,  at  the  "  Cafe  "  an  indefinite  num- 
ber of  thrashings  to  anybody  who  cared  to  apply 
for  one ;  so  that  I  don't  think  I  am  much  in  "debt  to 
my  good  neighbours. 

"  My  speech,  very  Catholic,  but  always  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  State,  went  fairly  well.  You 
know  that  I  am  not  an  orator  yet  (will  I  ever  be 
one!);  besides  just  before  I  spoke,  they  told  me 
that  you  had  gone  away,  and  also  the  atmosphere 
was  charged  with  heaviness  and  stupidity.  On  the 
other  hand,  my  proffered  thrashing,  less  Catholic, 
answered  very  well,  and  I  am  not  likely  to  be  led 
into  the  temptation  of  following  it  up  by  a  sword- 
thrust.  I  only  intended  to  give  a  lesson,  or  an 
example,  .  whichever  you  like,  of  brotherly  love ; 
and  I  think  that  I  did  well  both  with  hand  and 
mind.     Finally,  our  old  friend,  Schiro,  sent  by  your 


THE  POLITICIAN  177 

mother,  drove  me  out  to  Villa  Carre,  cursing  the 
blazing  sun  all  the  time ;  and  I  dreamed  violently 
of  a  certain  lady  who  is  cold  as  ice.  We  stopped 
a  moment  near  Rocchette,  under  the  fortress  that 
you  know  so  well ;  and  thence  I  made  a  sentimental 
journey  up  to  that  level  bit  of  ground  where  the 
said  lady  once  picked  some  colchicum  in  autumn, 
which  I  begged  of  her,  but  which  she  hid  in  her 
bosom,  giving  me  instead  only  a  stony  silence.  At 
Villa  Carre  I  found  my  aunt  very  unhappy,  and 
your  uncle  delightfully  rabid.  I  could  only  give 
him  a  hand  and  a  quinine  pill,  and  we  did  not  talk 
about  you,  although  his  head  and  my  heart  were 
aching  on  your  account.  Your  mother  talked  a 
great  deal  about  you  instead, 

"  What  have  you  been  doing,  Elena  ?  I  cannot 
pretend  to  understand  you  thoroughly  from  Aunt 
Tarquinia,  and  I  don't  think  she  was  very  clear 
about  \t  herself;  but  from  what  I  could  gather,  it 
looks  to  me  very  like  a  deep  and  subtle  plot  laid  by 
you  against  the  peace  of  Villa  Carre,  for  the  sake 
of  one  day's  peace,  and  torture  ever  after.  Your 
mother  is  trembling  for  you,  and  would  make  any 
sacrifice  to  check  the  storm  which  she  fears  will 
.burst  upon  you.  For  my  own  part,  I  know  you  better 
than  your  mother  does,  and  I  am  not  afraid  for 
you.  Another  feeling  rises  in  my  heart;  a  con- 
tempt which  I  cannot  express.  In  any  case,  re- 
assure this  poor  woman,  towards  whom  you  may  be, 
sometimes,  ever  so  slightly  unjust. 


178  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Good  God !  Elena,  why  did  I  not  find  you  here  ? 
Why  did  you  scruple  to  leave  a  better  word  for 
me? 

"  I  picked  a  rose  this  evening  at  the  door  of  your 
studio.  Its  delicate  beauty,  lying  as  it  does  on  a 
barbarous  volume  of  Hansard,  is  dying  with  a  sweet 
gravity  that  somewhat  recalls  you  to  me  at  certain 
moments.  I  thought,  as  I  looked  at  your  studio, 
of  the  past,  and  of  what  might  have  been.  Shall 
we  sometime  live  among  the  roses,  Elena?  Is  it 
never  the  lot  of  souls  like  ours?  We  are  made  to 
meet  war  and  tempest,  we  are  weapons  in  an  un- 
known hand  which  never  rests,  and  never  let  us 
rest;  and  how  firmly  it  grasps  us. 

"  To-morrow  morning  I  am  going  to  carry  my 

gospel  into  the  mountains.     I  shall  preach  at  

and  .     I  know  that  this  will  not  please  you, 

my  haughty  lady;  but  there  is  no  politician  and  no 
patriot  who  has  not  felt  it  necessary  in  certain  times 
and  places  to  depose  his  weak  pride.  I  am  as 
haughty  as  you,  and  if  the  world  could  only  read 
my  feelings  when  I  am  asking  for  votes,  it  would 
indeed  praise  me.  But  if  the  voters  had  left  me  at 
Villascura,  as  after  all  they  very  likely  will  do,  at 
fest  I  certainly  should  not  have  troubled  to  run 
after  them..  I  calculate  that  I  have  in  me  still 
thirty-five  years  of  political  life;  if  I  am  to  waste 
two  of  them  at  the  door,  of  the  Chamber,  it  will 
not  ruin  me.  Nevertheless,  I  will  not  hide  from 
you,  as  I  do  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  that  I  feel  a 


THE  POLITICIAN  179 

certain  agitation,  an  excitement,  which  will  prevent 
me  from  sleeping  much  until  after  Sunday, 

"  Do  you  know  that  the  evening  before  I  went 
away,  you  said,  '  Write  to  me  '  ?  This  is  the  second 
time  I  have  written,  and  if  the  Holy  Inquisition 
itself  were  to  see  my  letters,  it  could  find  no  fault : 
it  would  not  find  one  of  the  words  that  I  may  have 
whispered  to  that  dying  rose,  who  won't  repeat 
them.  So  now,  answer  me.  If  you  do  not  do  so 
at  once,  and  fully,  I  shall  come  to  you,  wherever 
you  may  be,  and  demand  an  explanation. 

"  Now  I  am  going  to  cool  myself  in  the  lake  in 
the  garden.  It  is  half-past  eleven,  and  as  there  is 
no  moon;  it  would  be  hard  to  distinguish  between 
a  fish  and  a  candidate;  but  make  your  mind  easy, 
politicians  never  sink. 

"  Good-bye,  Elena.  If  things  go  badly  with  me 
on  Sunday„  I  shall  bury  myself  for  a  month  in  my 
garden,  with  Shakespeare  and  you. 

"Daniele." 

He  went  out  with  Saturn,  and  disappeared  in  the 
thick  shadows  of  the  limes  growing  by  a  path  lead- 
ing to  the  lake,  an  oval  sheet  of  water,  bordered  by 
dark  foliage,  and  shaded  by  the  overhanging  peak 
of  Passo  Grande.  A  few  minutes  later,  Saturn, 
was  left  alone  on  the  bank,  and  was  mournfully 
wagging  his  tail,  while  violent  splashes  were  heard 
from  the  middle  of  the  dark,  motionless  water. 


CHAPTER    X 

THE  baron's  affairs 

The  Di  Santa  Giulias  had  been  two  days  in 
Rome,  and  the  baron  had  not  as  yet  addressed  a 
word  to  his  wife.  They  had  two  bed-rooms  and  a 
sitting-room  at  the  Hotel  Bristol,  having  given  up 
their  old  rooms  in  the  Via  Ouattro  Fontane  the 
month  before  when  they  went  into  Veneto.  The 
senator  had  chosen  this  hotel  in  the  Piazza  Barberini 
so  as  not  to  be  too  far  away  from  his  usual  haunts ; 
although  in  July,  at  certain  hours  of  the  day,  the 
piazza  was  scorching.  The  baron  suffered  but  little 
from  this  for  he  never  rose  until  after  two  o'clock, 
when  he  went  out,  and  did  not  return  until  daylight. 
Elena  never  saw  him.  The  first  day  the  chamber- 
maid told  her  that  the  baron  had  gone  out,  and 
would  not  be  in  to  dinner.  The  second  day  she 
happened  to  be  in  the  sitting-room  when  her  hus- 
band passed  through,  looking  cross  and  worried, 
but  neither  of  them  spoke  a  word.  She  heard  him 
come  in  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  this  had  come 
to  be  his  daily  routine. 

It  was  better  for  Elena  that  it  should  be  so ;  it 

was    easier    for    her    to    go    through    the    days 

-  knowing  that  he  was  out.       It  matter  little  if  he 

spent  his  time,,  at  the  senate,  at  the  club,  or  in  some 

1 80 


■    THE  POLITICIAN  i8i 

place  where  the  play  was  higher  and  more  secret 
than  at  the  club.  She  had  heard  rumors  some  time 
before  that  there  was  such  a  place  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  Piazza  Barberini.  Perhaps 
her  husband  spent  his  nights  there.  This  thought 
occurred  to  her  the  first  time  that  she  was  disturbed 
by  his  return,  but  it  did  not  make  her  unhappy. 
She  was  perfectly  indifferent. 

Neither  did  she  trouble  herself  about  Cefalu ;  she 
was  in  a  state  of  apathy  even  about  the  sea  and  the 
solitude.  She  might  perhaps  become  fond  of  them, 
but  she  cared  little  how  she  might  feel. 

Since  the  first  days  of  her  married  life  she  had 
never  felt  such  a  profound  hopelessness.  The  sac- 
rifice she  contemplated  making,  and  had  in  fact  al- 
ready carried  out  in  part  of  removing  herself  as  far 
as  possible  from  the  heart  and  sight  of  Cortis,  had 
not  brought  her  that  secure  consciousness  of  having 
done  right  which  exalts  the  mind.  She  felt  too 
keenly  the  pain  that  her  cold  note  must  have  in- 
flicted upon  Cortis;  and  at  times  she  hated  herself 
for  having  made  any  allusion  to  the  letter  she  had 
received  from  Lugano.  Then  her  mood  would 
change  again  and  she  would  scold  herself  for  such 
unruly  feelings  and  such  waverings  of  will. 

As  soon  as  she  reached  Rome,  she  wrote  a  fairly 
affectionate  letter  to  her  mother.  She  answered 
her  uncle  Lao's  letter  the  following  day,  thanking 
him,  .-but  not  accepting  the  proffered  money.  She 
joked  about  the  sermon  that  her  old  uncle  had 
preached,   to   the   sound   of   his   polka,   about   the 


i82  THE  POLITICIAN  • 

wretched  money ;  she  ralHed  him  for  his  prodigaHty. 
Then  she  went  on  to  speak  of  the  heat  of  Rome, 
and  to  complain  that  she  found  no  one  she  knew. 
She  said  that  she  sighed  for  the  sea,  and  preferred 
Sicily  to  the  horrible  watering  places  of  the  conti- 
nent. She  ended  her  letter  by  announcing  her  in- 
tention of  going  up  to  the  Church  of  the  Capucines, 
where  she  could  get  a  breath  of  air,  and  where  she 
should  pray  for  all  rheumatic  uncles. 

As  she  wrote  she  felt  amazed  and  somewhat  hu- 
miliated to  find  that  she  could  act  so  cleverly. 
Henceforth  everything  would  seem  to  her  a  com- 
edy, everything  would  seem  false,  the  faces  about 
her,  the  words  and  actions  of  everyone  —  and  the 
"  I  will  "  spoken  at  the  altar,  might  she  not  con- 
sider that  too  as  an  answer  given  in  a  play? 

But  something  in  her  rose  to  resent  this.  Never, 
never!  No  feeling,  not  even  religion,  spoke  so  loudly 
as  her  proud  fidelity.  She  did  not  believe  in  her 
religion :  her  mother  had  always  gone  to  mass  too 
much,  and  her  uncle  too  little.  But  she  had  re- 
tained a  sad,  severe  faith  in  God,  a  faith  which 
forbade  her,  if  she  were  weak  and  unworthy,  any 
expectation  of  reward  or  happiness  either  here  or 
hereafter.  Even  this,  her  last  light,  was  burning 
very  dimly.  Up  there,  in  the  Capucin  church,  when 
she  wanted  to  pray  with  fervour,  to  ask  God  to  help  ' 
her  against  herself,  a  sinister  impression,  she  had 
received  years  ago  in  that  same  church,  suddenly 
recurred  to  her.  A  lay-brother  had  shown  her  the 
horrible  mortuary  chapel.     This  was  not  so  bad  but 


THE  POLITICIAN  183 

afterwards,  in  the  church,  he  had  said  to  her  quietly, 
with  his  expressionless  face :  "  Under  this  stone  is 
buried  Cardinal  Barberirii,  founder  of  the  church. 
See,  signora,  the  inscription:  hie  jacet  pulvis,  cinis 
et  nihil  —  that  means  dust,  ashes  and  nothing ! 

Pulvis,  cinis  et  nihil.  Elena  had  looked  at  these 
words  cut  in  the  stone  with  wonder  and  terror,  as 
if  they  had  been  spoken  from  the  kingdom  of  the 
dead  to  explain  to  her  the  sad  mystery  of  human 
life,  to  make  it  seem  pulvis  et  nihil,  to  the  utter  ex- 
clusion of  the  spirit ;  and  the  man  with  the  expres- 
sionless face  looked  to  her  like  the  priest  of  some 
tragic  religion  of  death  and  nothingness.  At  Rome 
she  was  often  assailed  by  the  terrors  of  hopeless 
scepticism,  suggested,  no  doubt,  by  the  ruins  of  a 
dead  faith  which  were  scattered  around  her,  by  the 
worn-out  pomp  of  a  sickly  faith,  which  in  the 
campagna,  surrounded  her  with  silence  and  deser- 
tion. 

The  evening  after  her  arrival  she  drove  to  the 
library  to  get  the  Memoirs  d'Outretombe,  and  there 
she  met  Senator  Clenizzi  from  Bergamo,  a  lively 
little  old  man,  who  had  always  been  at  her  feet  on 
account  of  her  beauty,  her  cleverness  and  also  be-  4 

cause,  rara  avis,  she  never  worried  him  with  tickets 
for  charity  concerts  or  other  good  works.  He  did 
not  know  that  Elena  was  in  Rome.  He  kissed  her 
hand  with  unusual  tenderness,  and  kept  repeating: 
"  Dear  Donna  Elena,  dear  Donna  Elena !  "  till  at 
last  the  librarian,  waiting  with  the  Chateaubriand 
in  hand,  began  to  laugh.     Before  getting  into  her 


1 84  THE*  POLITICIAN 

carriage,  Elena  told  him  that  she  expected  to  remain 
a  few  days  longer  in  Rome  before  going  to  some 
baths,  and  that  she  hoped  to  see  him  again. 

"  At  the  Quattro  Fontane  ?  "  asked  Clenizzi. 

"  No,  at  the  Bristol." 

"  At  what  time  can  I  come  and  not  find  your  hus- 
band at  home?  " 

Elena  smiled. 

"  I  never  see  him,"  she  answered.  "  Come  when 
you  like.  Why  are  you  afraid  to  meet  my  hus- 
band?    Have  you  quarrelled  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  that,"  answered  the  little  old  man. 

"Well,  what  then?" 

He  helped  her  into  her  carriage. 

"  Am  I  so  old  as  that?  "  he  said.  "  He  may  stab 
me,  but  all  the  same  I  will  come." 

"  Do,"  answered  Elena  smiling.  "  And  if  you 
know  any  more  friends  of  ours  in  Rome,  bring  them 
with  you.  I  am  always  alone;  come  soon  if  you 
want  to  find  me." 

"  The  poor  thing  knows  nothing,"  said  Clenizzi 
to  himself,  returning  into  the  shop,  as  the  carriage 
drove  off  in  the  direction  of  Piazza  Colonna. 

The  next  day  he  went  to  the  Hotel  Bristol. 
Elena  received  him  with  considerable  excitement, 
talking  to  him  of  this,  that  and  the  other,  with  a 
feverish  gaiety  that  embarrassed  him.  He  an- 
swered in  monosyllables,  fidgeting  about,  and  he 
looked  so  uncomfortable  and  yet  was  so  unwilling 
to  go  away,  that  Elena  finally  said  to  him : — 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Clenizzi  ?     You 


THE  POLITICIAN  185 

are  like  '  une  dine  en  peine.'  Tell  me,  have  you  to 
make  a  speech  in  the  senate  ?  " 

"  Bless  my  heart ! ''  exclaimed  the  startled  sen- 
ator; "  no,  no,  not  in  the  senate." 

Elena  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said,  lowering  her  voice  to  a  tone  of 
freezing  indifference,  "  have  you  anything  to  say  to 
me?  Is  it  something  which  concerns  my  hus- 
band?" 

The  man's  embarrassment  left  him  at  once,  and 
he  showed  instead  anxiety  and  nervousness. 

"  So  you  know?  "  he  asked. 

Elena  shook  her  head,  shrugging  her  shoulders 
and  raising  her  eyebrows : — 

"  I  know  nothing,"  she  answered,  in  a  scarcely 
audible  voice. 

Clenizzi,  stupefied,  remained  with  his  mouth  open, 
not  knowing  whether  to  continue  or  to  hold  his 
tongue.  Elena's  lips  moved  again,  and  she  whis- 
pered : — 

"  Tell  me." 

The  senator  thought  her  annoyed.  He  grew 
very  red  and  protested  that  he  had  no  desire  to 
touch  upon  certain  matters,  that  he  had  only  been 
moved  to  do  so  by  a  feeling  of  devotion.  If  she 
did  not  wish  it  he  certainly  did  not  care : — 

"  Clenizzi,"  she  said,  interrupthig  him  in  a  tone 
of  reproach,  as  she  stretched  out  her  hand. 

She  was  accustomed  to  these  outbursts  from  her 
old  friend,  who,  notwithstanding  his  seventy  years, 
had  all  the  fire  of  a  boy  of  twenty  . 


i86  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said  ardently  kissing  the  white 
tapering  fingers.  "I  am  wrong.  I  come  from 
Bergamo,  I  was  born  on  the  Brembo,  and  I  am 
violent." 

"  No,  no!  "exclaimed  Elena.  "  Treat  me  as  you 
would  a  child;  and  tell  me  everything.  It  is  my 
duty  to  do  what  I  can  for  my  husband." 

Then  the  senator  asked  if  she  had  never  sus- 
pected anything  wrong  in  the  state  of  jier  husband's 
affairs.  She  answered  yes,  her  suspicions  had  been 
roused  long  ago.  She  had  noticed  certain  ugly 
looking  people  who  came  to  inquire  for  the  baron, 
certain  letters  that  always  irritated  him,  the  annoy- 
ance he  felt  over  every  domestic  expense.  She 
knew  also  that  he  gambled;  for  she  had  learned 
that  from  the  first  anonymous  letters  that  had  come 
both  to  her  and  her  uncle ;  and  then  besides,  an 
ofiicious  woman  friend  had  whispered  it  to  her  at 
Rome,  and  finally,  in  May,  before  going  to  Passo 
di  Rovese,  her  husband  had  begged  her  to  use  her 
influence  with  the  Carres  to  get  him  a  certain  sum 
of  money. 

At  this  point  Elena  stopped.  It  was  inconceiv- 
able to  Clenizzi  that  the  baron  should  have  entirely 
concealed  from  his  wife  all  the  misfortunes  that 
were  hanging  over  his  head,  but  such  was  the  fact. 
Donna  Elena  knew  nothing,  and  turned  towards 
him  the  indifferent  face  that  she  had  first  displayed. 
Then  he  told  her  roughly  that  her  husband's  honor 
and  liberty  were  at  stake. 

Elena  shook  her  head. 


THE  POLITICIAN  187 

"I  don't  believe  it!  "  she  said. 

She  knew  that  she  had  a  rude,  violent  and  vicious 
-  man  for  a  husband,  but  she  did  not  believe  him 
capable  of  a  dishonest  action. 

"  Ah,  Donna  Elena ;"  exclaimed  Clenizzi,  with  a 
look  that  expressed  a  hundred  things. 

And  then  he  told  her  that,  two  months  before, 
the  lawyer  Boglietti,  commissioned  by  a  Sicilian 
loan  company,  had  been  to  the  president  of  the  sen- 
ate bearing  a  most  serious  accusation  against  Sen- 
ator Di  Santa  Giulia.  It  seems  the  firm  had  sent 
Di  Santa  Giulia,  as  their  chairman,  to  obtain  a  sum 
owed  to  them  by  a  banking-house  in  Rome,  and  to 
deposit  it  with  the  Minister  of  Finance  as  security 
for  certain  borrowed  money.  He  had  performed 
the  first  part  of  the  commission,  but  not  the  second. 
The  board  of  directors  discovered  this  fact,  and 
immediately  instituted  inquiries  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  their  commission  had  been  carried  out. 
Here  was  a  dark  spot.  It  appeared  that  Di  Santa 
Giulia  had  made  some  excuse  or  other  and  by  prom- 
ising that  the  matter  should  be  made  right,  had 
persuaded  the  board,  of  which  several  of  the  mem- 
bers  were  his  supporters,  to  proceed  no  further. 
As  nothing,  however,  came  of  it,  the  board  had  been 
compelled,  by  the  end  of  May,  to  call  upon  Di  Santa 
Giulia  to  restore  the  money,  and  to  make  good  their 
losses  by  the  i8th  of  June,  threatening  him  with 
criminal  proceedings  for  misappropriation  of  funds 
in  case  of  refusal.  The  baron  had  begged  for  a  de- 
lay, promising  to  repay  one-half  the  sum  on  the  30th 


i88  THE  POLITICIAN 

of  September  of  that  year,  and  the  remainder  on 
the  31st  of  March  of  the  following  year.  He 
trusted  that  his  friends  on  the  board  would  be  able 
to  bring  about  a  settlement  upon  these  terms.  To 
this  the  board  would  not  agree  and  Boglietti  had 
been  instructed  to  make  one  last  attempt  at  a 
friendly  solution,  before  resorting  to  the  law.  They 
demanded  immediate  payment  of  one-third  of  the 
sum,  before  they  would  agree  that  the  remaining 
debt  should  be  paid  in  two  equal  portions,  according 
to  the  proposal  of  the  baron.  Failing  this,  he  was 
to  move  for  a  writ  against  him.  The  lawyer  had 
thought  it  best  to  go  and  lay  the  whole  case  before 
the  president  of  the  senate,  hoping  that  he  might 
find  a  means  of  avoiding  such  a  scandal,  and  of 
forcing  the  baron  to  do  his  duty.  The  president 
telegraphed  on  the  29th,  of  June  to  Passo  di  Rovese, 
recalling  Di  Santa  Giulia  to  Rome.  On  the  first 
of  July,  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  a  few  hours  before 
the  meeting  of  Elena  and  Clenizzi  at  the  library,  a 
member  of  the  president's  office  had  received  a 
promise  from  the  baron  that  tlie  required  payment 
should  be  made  before  the  7th,  failing  which  his 
name  was  to  be  struck  off  the  list  of  senators  of  the 
kingdom. 

It  was  said  that  there  was  not  the  slightest  prob- 
ability that  the  baron  would  be  able  to  find  the 
money,  for  he  was  over  head  and  ears  in  debt. 
Would  his  wife's  family  come  to  the  rescue? 

"  In  such  a  case  as  this,"  Clenizzi  concluded  has- 
tily, "  no  one  can  help  but  relations." 


THE  POLITICIAN  189 

"  I  believe,"  Elena  began,  "  that  all  my  money 
has  long  since  been  dissipated.  And,  besides,  do 
you  suppose  that  my  family  has  never  done  any- 
thing?" 

"  I  understand ;  but  — " 

Elena  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  From  twelve  to  fifteen  thousand  lire.  If 
you  can  raise  that  sum,  your  husband  must  never 
see  it.  It  must  be  in  Boglietti's  hands  before 
Thursday." 

"  Ah !  dear  Clenizzi,"  sighed  Elena,  "  if  money 
could  do  everything!  Supposing  that  we  can  find 
this  money,  may  I  send  it  to  you?  Will  you  look 
after  it  ?  If  it  had  to  be  drawn  out  of  the  National 
Bank,  would  you  see  to  it  for  me  ?  " 

The  senator,  who  for  love  of  Elena  and  for  the 
pleasure  of  saving  his  own  money,  would  have 
walked  into  the  fire,  placed  himself  entirely  at  her 
disposal.  He  looked  at  the  clock.  This  was  the 
very  day  that  the  plan  for  electoral  reform  was  to 
be  laid  before  the  senate,  and  a  debate  was  expected 
on  the  forming  of  the  Central  Ofiice.  He  must 
get  to  the  house." 

"  We  must  hope,"  he  said,  rising. 

"What  for?"  asked  Elena,  with  a  smile  so  bit- 
ter, and  a  look  so  sad,  that  it  brought  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  the  poor  senator. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  am  a  poor 
old  man,  a  poor  old  fool,  but  if  you  were  my  daugh- 
ter, by  our  Lady!  I  would  carry  you  off  into  my 
own  country  as  sure  as  God  is  above  us;  and  if  that 


I90  THE  POLITICIAN 

ugly  fellow  came  to  take  you  away,  he  should  see 
what  we  are  made  of  in  Bergamo !  " 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  in  an  offended  tone,  "  you 
don't  know  me." 

"  And  me  ?  "  retorted  the  senator,  "  do  you  know 
me?     I  should  like  to  see  him  come." 

Elena  seemed  afraid  to  discuss  this  question,' for 
she  hastily  replied : 

"  Go  to  the  senate,  go  to  the  senate,"  and  rang 
the  bell. 

She  remained  alone,  standing  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  and  lost  in  thought  was  gazing  fixedly  at 
the  triton  in  the  fountain  on  the  piazza.  A  waiter 
opened  the  door  and  asked:  "Did  you  ring?"  re- 
ceiving no  answer,  he  repeated :  "  Did  the  signora 
baroness  ring?  " 

"  Ah !  "  said  Elena  looking  at  him,  and  realizing 
for  the  first  time  that  he  was  there,  and  then  she 
added :  "  No,  I  did  not  ring." 

Scarcely  had  the  waiter  retired,  however,  when 
she  remembered  that  she  had  rung  and  what  she 
wanted.  She  went  to  the  door,  and  called  after 
him :  "  A  cab,"  then  she  returned  to  the  con- 
templation of  the  fountain.  Within  her  mind 
all  was  confusion.  With  her  other  feelings  for 
her  husband  there  was  now  mingled,  for  the 
first  time,  one  of  horror.  He  had  taken 
other  people's  money!  Then  suddenly  all  the 
tumult  within  her  was  quieted;  her  fancies 
and  thoughts  subsided  as  though  some  invisible 
door  had  been  opened  for  them  in  the  depths  of  her 


THE  POLITICIAN  191 

mind.  All  became  blank  and  dark ;  and  as  her  eyes 
gazed  at  the  fountain,  there  came  unconsciously  to 
her  lips  a  few  words  recently  read  in  the  Memoirs 
d'Outretoinhc,  the  words  of  poor  Madame  d,e  Beau- 
mont at  Tivoli :  "II  faut  laisser  tomber  les  flots." 
(Let  the  waves  roll  by.) 

However,  this  deadly  calmness  could  not  last 
long.  As  soon  as  the  waiter  came  back  to  tell  her 
that  the  cab  was  ready,  she  got  up,  determined  to 
think  of  nothing  but  her  duty.  She  drove  at  once 
to  the  telegraph  office,  and  despatched  a  message  to 
her  ijncle  Lao,  accepting  the  money  she  had  previ- 
ously refused.  She  begged  that  it  might  be  sent  to 
her  at  once,  and  promised  explanations  by  mail. 
On  her  return  to  the  hotel,  she  thought,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  bitter  satisfaction,  of  the  excitement  that 
would  be  caused  at  Villa  Carre  by  her  telegram,  of 
the  fury  of  her  uncle,  and  the  lamentations  of  her 
mother.  There  came  into  her  mind,  who  knows 
why,  a  recollection  of  the  roses  which  were  peeping 
into  her  empty  room.  Yesterday  she  had  received 
from  her  mother  a  letter  full  of  affection,  of  fears, 
of  reproof.  What  would  she  say  now?  At  the 
corner  of  the  streets  of  the  Due  Macelli  and  the 
Tritone,  she  thought  she  saw  her  husband  turning 
hastily  down  a  back  street  to  the  left.  A  wave  of 
anger  swept  over  her.  Could  that  gambling  house 
be  over  there?  Her  first  impulse  was  to  stop  the 
cab  and  join  him.  Her  contempt  overcame  it ;  and 
she  let  him  go.  For  some  time  past  she  had  known 
him  to  be  coarse,  violent,  and  vicious ;  but  she  had 


192  ,    THE  POLITICIAN 

always  given  him  credit  for  a  cet-taiii  rough  honesty, 
the  brutal  frankness  of  a  barbarian.  But  now  even 
this  was  gone.  Money  that  did  not  belong  to  him 
had  taken  even  this  last  virtue.     She  let  him  go. 

At  the  hotel  she  found  Cortis's  letter.  When 
she  had  left  that  cold  note  for  him  at  Passo  di 
Rovese,  her  design  had  been  to  irritate  him,  and  to 
prevent  him  from  writing  to  her,  at  least  for  some 
time.  She  had  hoped  much  from  distance  and  silence; 
not  for  herself,  but  for  him.  She  experienced  an 
uncontrollable  feeling  of  pleasure  when  she  saw 
that  her  plan  had  failed ;  and  as  she  opened  tlie  let- 
ter she  did  not  know  whether  she  most  longed  or 
feared, to  see^  passionate  words.  She  devoured  it, 
first  of  all  from  beginning  to  end,  hurrying  over  the 
little  expressions  of  affection  as  though  they  burned 
her ;  especially  over  the  sentence,  "it  would  not 
find  in  my  letter  one  of  the  words  that  I  may  have 
whispered  to  the  dying  rose,  which  will  not  repeat 
them."  She  thought  that  Cortis  ought  not  to  have 
written  this ;  and  on  reaching  the  end,  she  turned 
quickly  back  to  the  first  page,  where  he  spoke  of  his 
mother.  She  read  the  disconsolate  lines  again,  and 
felt  profoundly  grieved.  At  that  moment  she  felt 
neither  her  own  troubles  nor  the  sweetness  of  know- 
ing herself  loved.  All  her  heart  went  out  to  him. 
She  suffered  with  him,  she  shared  his  disenchant- 
ment, his  bitter  loneliness.  She  realised  all  this  so 
deeply  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  no  longer  belonged 
to  herself,  but  had  become  part  of  him.  And  this 
election?     Daniele  only  spoke  of  it  jokingly,  but 


THE  POLITICIAN  193 

here,  as  in  other  parts  of  his  letter,  his  gaiety  be- 
trayed the  real  disturbance  of  his  mind.  A  rush  of 
indignation  against  the  stupid  voters  made  the 
hands  and  silent  lips  of  Elena  tremble;  the  man 
whom  she  loved  could  not  please  such  idiots.  Nev- 
ertheless she  felt  no  shadow  of  a  doubt  as  to  his 
ultimate  success.  The  future  of  Cortis  was  cer- 
tainly not  in  the  hands  of  a  few  stupid  fellows.  And 
there  was  some  comfort  to  be  extracted  from  his 
letter.  She  felt  that  his  moral  strength  was  greater 
than  his  love,  that  though  his  great  soul  might  suffer 
by  a  woman's  abandonment,  it  would  not  crush 
him!  As  for  herself,  whatever  fate  might  await 
her,  whatever  misfortune  might  come  upon  her,  it 
should  not  rule  her  life  either  to  herself,  nor  to  the 
world,  nor  to  God. 

A  fleeting  vision  rose  before  her,  and  showed 
her  the  placid  lake  at  Villa  Cortis,  with  Daniele 
seated  on  the  brink.  She  was  seated  beside  him, 
having  fled  from  Rome  and  her  unworthy  husband. 
The  shadows  of  the  garden,  the  lake,  their  own 
hearts,  all  were  at  peace  to  their  inmost  recesses. 
She  forced  the  picture  to  vanish  with  a  sudden 
frown.  It  could  never  be!  Cortis  must  not  love 
her.  Even  if  she  sacrificed  herself,  she  could  offer 
him  nothing  but  a  feverish  present  and  an  uncertain 
future,  even  by  allowing  him  to  love  her  thus  ideally, 
she  saddened  his  life.  He  was  alone  in  the  world, 
and  on  the  path  he  had  chosen  for  himself,  pain, 
and  weariness  awaited  him.  Why  had  he  no  fam- 
ily to  be  .a  rest  and  comfort  to  him  ?     She  must 


194  THE  POLITICIAN 

make  him  forget  her.  She  thought  of  the  Httle 
meadow  near  the  fir  trees,  where  Cortis  had  left 
her;  she  thought  of  the  colchicum  blossom,  that 
flower  with  its  wonderful  properties,  which  she  had 
insisted  upon  keeping  for  herself.  She  smiled  and 
wept. 

Her  husband  did  not  reappear  that  day.  Elena 
was  to  have  gone  to  some  friends  in  the  Via  Urbana, 
who  were  kind  enough  to  take  charge  of  her  plate, 
but  she  did  not  feel  in  the  humor  to  see  people,  or 
to  assume  the  mask  of  gaiety.  She  read  over  and 
over  in  the  Memoires  all  the  passages  of  which  Cor- 
tis had  told  her,  but  especially,  the  letters  of  Madame 
de  Caud,  and  she  turned  again  and  again  to  the 
passage  which  speaks  of  unintentionally  dashing 
against  the  destiny  of  another.  She  ate  no  dinner. 
In  the  evening,  her  head  and  her  eyes  ached  with 
the  constant  reading,  and  she  felt  so  suffocated  in 
her  little  room,  that  she  ordered  a  cab  and  drove 
out  beyond  the  Porta  Pia.  The  last  lights  of  the 
sunset  tinged  with  purple  the  Sabine  hills  and  the 
air  was  pleasant.  Elena  could  not  help  weeping, 
but  the  melancholy  of  the  hour,  the  solitude  stretch- 
ing away  towards  Ponte  Numentano,  and  the  ruins 
on  every  side,  seemed  all  to  find  voices  of  sympathy 
with  her,  and  to  make  her  tears  less  bitter  in  con- 
sequence. As  they  rode  down  toward  Ponte  Nu- 
mentano, the  driver  let  his  horse  walk.  An  old 
woman  begged  of  the  beautiful  lady,  and  on  receiv- 
ing alms,  she  noticed  that  the  giver's  eyes  were  full 
of  tears.  \ 


THE  POLITICIAN  195 

"  My  daughter,  God  will  give  you  peace,"  she 
said. 

Elena  liad  a  violent  attack  of  shivering;  her 
thoughts  turned  to  the  fever,  as  bringing  a  possible 
and  desirable  peace,  and  to  the  words  on  the  marble 
tomb  in  the  Capucin  church :  "  Puhis,  cinis  et  nihil." 
As  she  descended  towards  Rome,  she  saw  before 
her  the  moon  setting  behind  the  cypress  in  the  Villa 
Albani,  and  as  she  drove  past  the  gardens,  the  air 
was  heavy  with  the  scent  of  magnolias.  Near  the 
Porta  Pia  she  met  a  young  man  and  woman  riding. 
How  handsome  they  looked  on  their  fiery  horses. 
To  her,  the  evening  voices  spoke  only  of  sadness, 
but  how  sweetly  must  they  speak  of  love  to  others ! 

At  ten  that  evening  she  received  a  telegram  from 
Lao,  which  began  by  promising  her  the  money 
within  three  days,  through  the  National  Bank.  It 
went  on  : — "  At  to-day's  ballot,  Cortis  had  342  votes 
X.  338.     Cortis  elected." 

Elena  felt  a  keen  sensation  of  joy,  and  her  face 
flushed  with  pleasure.  She  put  her  hands  to  her 
cheeks,  they  were  burning;  to  her  temples,  they 
were  .-throbbing.  Cortis  elected !  He  had  con- 
quered. The  first  step  was  won,  and  he  must  be 
happy.  He  would  come  to  Rome,  perhaps  have  to 
live  there  for  many  months,  and  she  might  be  there 
too.  No,  no,  good  God!  keep  her  from  that 
thought!  She  was  going  to  Cefalu,  to  remain 
there  for  ever.  She  must  never  see  him,  never 
betray  herself.  Oh,  heavens !  might  she  not  send 
him  one  word  ?    What  would  he  think  of  such  a  si- 


196  THE  POLITICIAN 

lence?  Certainly  he  would  guess  its  true  cause, 
and  that  would  be  worse.  He  would  expect  one 
line,  one  w^ord ;  and  she  could  write  very  coldly, 
very  distinctly,  holding  him  at  a  distance.  She 
began  this  cold  and  severe  letter  with  fever  in  her 
heart  and  in  her  head. 

Rome,  July  2d,  1881. 

"  Dear  Cousin, —  They  tell  me  you  are  elected.  I 
am  sincerely  glad  to  know  that  you  have  taken  this 
step  on  your  career,  which  I  trust  may  be  happy 
and  distinguished. 

"  I  received  your  letter,  and  have  been  much 
pained  by  what  you  wrote  to  me  from  Lugano.  I 
would,  I  could  hasten  by  my  prayers  the  moment  — " 

Here  two  tears  fell  upon  her  paper,  but  she  con- 
tinued to  write,  pressing  her  lips  tightly  together. 

" —  In  which  a  pure  and  faithful  woman  may 
comfort  you,  and  warm  your  deserted  hearth. 

"  I  think,  and  have  always  thought  of  you  with 
friendliness,  but  there  cannot  be  in  my  heart,  and  I 
will  not  allow  in  yours,  any  other  feeling.  I  am 
therefore  compelled  to  say  to  you  that  several  sen- 
tences in  your  note  from  Lugano,  and  in  your  letter 
of  to-day,  have  offended  me.  I  hope  you  will  not 
find  it  very  difficult  to  alter  both  your  mind  and 
your  language;  otherwise  I  should  feel  obliged  not 
to  see  you  again. 

Elena  stopped.  The  effort  of  writing  these  cruel 
words  had  been  great;  when  fancy,  stimulated  by 
passion  and  fever,  suggested  others  of  a  very  dif- 


THE  POLITICIAN  197 

ferent  nature.  She  did  not  know  how  to  go  on. 
And  she  sat  thinking,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
white  paper,  trying  to  find  a  way  to  finish,  her  hand 
unconsciously  wrote :  "  In  winter,  in  summer,  from 
near  and  — " 

She  started,  when  she  saw  it,  and  tore  up  the 
sheet.  She  was  suffering,  she  was  mortally  tired, 
but  the  thought  of  finding  that  letter  there  on  the 
table  the  next  morning  frightened  her.  She  took 
another  sheet  of  paper,  and  copied  the  first  letter 
down  to  the  word  "  again,"  then  she  continued : — 

"  You  will  forgive  me  for  writing  so  briefly. 
Since  I  am  in  Rome  for  only  a  few  days,  I  have  very 
much  to  do,  and  the  evening  always  finds  me  very 
tired.  Please  tell  mamma  and  my  uncle  that  I  am 
well,  and  enjoying  myself.  Rome  always  fascinates 
me! 

"  Good-bye,  and  once  more  a  thousand  congratu- 
lations from  your  affectionate  cousin, 

"  Elena  Di  S.  G." 

She  sealed  the  letter,  and  sent  it  without  delay  to 
the  post.  No  sooner  had  the  waiter  taken  it  than 
she  regretted  not  having  said  to  Cortis  that  she  was 
sorry  for  the  pain  she  was  causing  him;  but  then 
she  told  herself  that  he,  with  his  temper,  would  be 
irritated  and  not  pained  by  her  letter.  It  was  better 
so!  Certainly  the  love  that  Cortis  bore  her  in  no- 
wise resembled  her  own  inextinguishable  passion. 
He  would  fly  into  a  rage,  and  would  not  write  to 
her  again;  then  it  would  be  easy,  during  his  con- 


• 


198  THE  POLITICIAN 

temptuous  silence,  to  withdraw  herself  little  by  little 
from  his  heart.  But  what  if  he  should  suddenly 
come  to  Rome  ?  What  if  she  were  to  find  herself 
obliged  to  see  him? 

Elena  passed  the  night  in  weary  restlessness, 
troubled  by  a  succession  of  dreams.  She  fell  asleep 
at  dawn,  and  fancied  herself,  sitting  by  the  lake  at 
Villascura,  alone,  with  a  volume  of  Shakespeare  in 
her  hand.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  motionless 
water,  and  she  could  think  only  the  melancholy 
words  of  Portia  in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice  " :  My 
little  body  is  aweary  of  this  great  world." 

At  six  o'clock  she  heard  a  violent  knocking  at 
her  door,  and  when  she  did  not  answer  at  once,  it 
was  opened  with  pushes,  kicks  and  blows.  Then 
somebody  came  storming  into  her  room. 

"  God  bless  my  soul!  what  an  oven!  " 

Elena  raised  her  head  from  the  pillow,  and  saw 
her  husband  throwing  her  windows  open." 

"  This  air  is  stifling!  "  he  growled,  leaning  over 
the  bed.     "  How  are  you  ?  " 

Elena  answered  him  curtly.  That  was  a  nice 
way  indeed  of  entering  her  room!  The  baron's 
hair  was  dishevelled,  his  necktie  awry,  his  eyes  shin- 
ing. But  in  his  grumbling  there  was  a  certain  good 
temper  like  that  of  a  wild  beast  in  a  pleasant  mood. 

"  Are  you  angry?  "  he  asked.  "  It  is  three  days 
since  we  last  saw  each  other."  And  stretching  his 
hand  over  the  bed,  he  seized  her  foot. 

Elena  started,  and  drew  it  away. 

"  Leave  me  alone !  "  she  said. 


THE  POLITICIAN  199 

"  That's  a  great  way  to  speak,"  exclaimed  the 
baron.  "  You  should  say,  my  dear  husband,  how- 
good  of  you  to  come  and  see  me  after  the  trick  I 
have  played  you." 

Elena  did  not  answer. 

He  pulled  an  arm-chair  up  to  the  bedside,  and 
threw  himself  into  it,  with  his  legs  apart. 
-  "  I  am  good  ;"  he  said.  "  I  am  very  good !  Why 
do  I  speak  like  this  ?  "  he  continuel.  "  Why  do  I 
look  like  a  good-natured  devil,  except  that  I  have  in 
me  the  fire  of  the  south.  You  cold-blooded  north- 
ern creatures  regard  me  as  a  Bacchus,  and  perhaps 
something  worse!  Look  here,  you  angel  of  Para- 
dise, whose  finger  one  is  unworthy  to  touch;  you 
have  deceived  me,  you  have  tried  to  take  my  life, 
my  pretty  charmer !  " 

"  Your  life !  "  exclaimed  Elena. 

"  Yes,  my  life,  my  life.  Those  fifteen  thousand 
lire  represented  my  honor,  and  I  would  have  you 
know  that,  although  I  may  be  a  most  cruel  tyrant, 
I  would  not  keep  my  life  a  moment  if  by  losing  it  I 
could  save  my  honor!  Now  you  have  done  all  in 
your  power  to  prevent  me  from  getting  that  money, 
do  you  see?  I  have  had  to  spend  three  nights  in 
the  devil's  company  in  order  to  get  it.  And  now 
here  I  am,  peaceful  as  a  lamb !  " 

He  stood  up,  and  leaned  over  her  with  a  smile. 

"  And  I  am  very  fond  of  you,  my  little  heart." 

She  pushed  him  away. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  Cefalu?  Then  you  shan't 
go  there.     I  forgive  you,  but  I'll  never  forgive  your 


200  THE  POLITICIAN 

people.  Who  knows  where  we'll  go.  I  have  plenty 
of  money,  now.  But  you  must  be  kind  to  your  hus- 
band, my  pretty  lady !  " 

He  had  not  touched  a  drop  of  wine,  but  the  excite- 
ment of  gambling,  and  the  long  nights  that  he  had 
been  sitting  up,  and  love,  if  it  can  be  called  love, 
made  his  eyes  glitter  as  though  he  were  drunk. 

"  Have  you  been  playing?  "  asked  Elena. 

"  For  three  nights.  I  have  won  twenty-six  thou- 
sand five  hundred  lire.  Now  that  I  am  in  luck,  I 
should  like  to  go  to  Aix. " 

"  No,  no,  will  you  not  go  directly  to  Boglietti, 
the  lawyer  ?  " 

"  Curse  him !  "  yelled  the  baron.  "  What  do  you 
know  about  it?  Has  he  been  here,  the  scoundrel? 
The  blackguard!  Yes,  I  will  go  to  him,  and  pay 
him  at  once,  and  I  will  give  him  the  September 
payment  at  the  same  time.  He  won't  be  pleased 
with  that.  So  he  has  been  here,  has  he,  the  dog? 
I'll  break  his  head  for  him !  " 

"  No,"  said  Elena,  "  he  has  not  been  here." 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  anything  about  him?  " 

"  Never  mind." 

"  Well,  I  won't  ask  you.  I  am  in  such  a  good 
humour  this  morning.  Tell  the  truth  now,  am  I 
not  a  good  devil  —  I  like  to  play  a  little ;  it's 
my  only  vice.  I  can't  tell  you  what  good  thoughts 
come  to  me  now  and  then.  Why,  I  would  even  em- 
brace your  mother  and  your  uncle  now  if  I  were  to 
meet  them.  But  you  must  be  kind  to  me,  my 
beauty." 


THE  POLITICIAN  201 

He  bent  over  suddenly  to  give  her  a  kiss,  but 
she,  turning  sharply  away,  received  it  only  on  her 
hair. 

"  Go  away,"  she  said ;  "  close  the  shutters  and 
leave  me  in  peace." 

"What  is  the  matter?"  grumbled  her  husband 
impatiently. 

"  I  have  the  fever." 

He  thought  she  was  not  speaking  the  truth,  and  a 
flash  of  anger  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  felt  her  pulse. 

His  face  changed,  however,  and  he  finished  by 
letting  her  white  inert  hand  fall  back  on  the  bed, 
saying : — 

"  You  have  done  this  to  plague  me !  I  had  in- 
vited some  people  to  dinner  to-day." 

"  Never  mind.  It  is  Roman  fever.  It  will  be 
gone  by  this  evening." 

"  Roman  fever?  "  exclaimed  the  baron,  frowning. 
"  I  will  send  for  a  doctor." 

"  It"  is  not  necessary.  I  know  what  will  cure  me 
immediately." 

"What?" 

Elena  turned  her  face  towards  him. 

"  Sicily,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER    XI 

FROM    CEFALI>  TO   ROME 

"  To  THE  Baroness  Elena  Di  Santa  Giulia,  at 

Cefalu. 

"  Rome,  19TH  January,  1882. 

"  Elena, — Only  one  word. 

"  You  went  to  Sicily  last  July,  ill  with  the  fever, 
and  you  have  not  sent  one  line  to  your  mother,  who 
only  learned  it  by  accident  a  few  days  ago  from 
Senator  Clenizzi.  You  said  that  you  would  return 
to  Veneto  in  the  early  days  of  October,  and  then 
you  made  a  pretext  for  putting  it  off  until  last 
month.  At  the  end  of  October  you  wrote  that  the 
opening  of  parliament  would  take  place  so  shortly 
that  it  was  not  worth  your  while  to  make  so  long  a 
journey  when  you  would  have  to  retrace  your  steps 
to  Rome  almost  immediately.  Parliament  opened; 
you  said  that  you  wished  to  see  something  of  a  Si- 
cilian winter,  and  that  you  would  come  back  imme- 
diately after  the  Christmas  holidays.  Now  your 
husband  has  come  alone.  He  never  answers  any 
letters  from  Casa  Carre,  and  it  is  impossible  to  get 
any  precise  information  about  you  or  him.  Aunt 
Tarquinia  would  start  for  Sicily  if  she  could.  Un- 
fortunately, Lao  is  in  bed  with  arthritis,  as  you 
know,  and  she  cannot  leave  him,  unless  it  is  abso- 

202 


THE  POLITICIAN  203 

lutely  necessary.  And  finally,  my -aunt  writes  me 
this  morning,  begging  me  to  take  the  journey  and 
to  go  and  see  you. 

"  Remembering  your  last  letter,  and  being,  alas ! 
unlike  you  in  some  things,  and  unable  to  change  my 
feelings  and  language  as  rapidly  as  an  actress 
changes  her  parts  and  her  dresses,  I  shall  answer 
that  I  am  extremely  busy,  and  that  I  cannot  pos- 
sibly leave  Rome.  Good-bye.  Your  affectionate 
cousin,  D.  CoRTis." 

"  To  THE  Most  Illustrious  Deputy,  Daniele 

CoRTis,  AT  Rome. 

"  Cefalu,  23D  January,  1882. 

"  Most  Illustrious  Sir, —  I  have  the  honor  of  be- 
ing charged  by  the  most  illustrious  baroness  Di 
Santi  Giulia  with  answering  your  letter  of  the  19th 
instant. 

"  The  baroness  is  in  bed,  under  my  care;  she  is 
suffering  from  a  slight  rheumatic  fever,  and  there- 
fore is  unable  to  write  herself.  She  vyishes  me  to 
say  that,  except  for  this  passing  and  unimportant 
indisposition,  her  health  is  good,  and  that  it  would 
be  most  displeasing  to  her  should  you  undertake  so  • 
long  a  journey.  I  am  to  add  that  the  news  of  her 
slight  indisposition  has  been  already  made  known 
to  his  excellency  the  baron,  and  to  the  baroness's 
family. 

"  The  baroness  desires  me  to  present  to  you  her 
respects. —  Awaiting  your  orders,  I  have  the  honor 
to  be,  your  most  humble  and  obedient  servant,  * 

"  Doctor  Antonino  Niscemi." 


204  THE  POLITICIAN 

"To  THE  Same  (Confidential) 

"  By  the  express  desire  of  the  baroness,  I  was 
obHged  to  write  as  she  wished,  and  she  read  the 
letter  when  it  was  finished.  Now  my  conscience 
orders  me  to  write  these  lines,  on  a  separate  sheet, 
for  your  better  information. 

"  The  baroness,  in  addition  to  an  anaemic  condi- 
tion, is  at  present  suffering,  not  from  rheumatic 
fever,  but  from  a  slight  gastric  attack,  together  with 
congestion  of  the  liver,  the  probable  after  effects 
of  an  attack  of  miasmatic  fever.  In  itself  the  ill- 
ness would  not  be  serious,  but  I  am  anxious  about 
the  general  anaemic  state,  and  the  extreme  mental 
depression  of  the  patient.  A  few  days  ago  I  began 
the  use  of  some  mineral  waters  of  ours  from  Termini. 
I  have  seen  miracles  done  by  them.     We  must  hope. 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  come,  because  the  baroness 
seems  to  me  most  uneasy  on  account  of  your  health 
at  the  idea  of  your  taking  this  journey,  and  as  she 
is  quite  determined  to  prevent  it,  I  cannot  advise 
you  to  go  against  her  wishes.  I  must  tell  you  of 
one  circumstance,  however.  At  my  visit  of  yes- 
terday, I  was  fairly  satisfied  with  the  look  and  con- 
dition of  the  invalid.  Your  letter  was  brought  to 
her  just  as  I  came  in;  and  she  had  not  yet  opened, 
nor  would  she  open  it,  notwithstanding  my  en- 
treaties, while  I  was  present.  It  appears  that  she 
read  it  as  soon  as  she  was  alone,  that  she  then  passed 
several  hours  in  a  state  of  great  agitation,  and  had 
a  very  bad  night,  with  great  pain  in  the  right  side, 
and  violent  fits  of  coughing. 


THE  POLITICIAN  205 

"  I  do  not  know  the  contents  of  your  letter.  I 
only  know  that  you  are  a  near  relation  to  this  in- 
comparable lady,  who  seems  to  have  an  exalted  and 
well-merited  opinion  of  you,  most  illustrious  sir. 
I  would  therefore  beg  of  you,  in  my  capacity  as 
doctor,  to  write  to  her.  She  has  much  need  of 
moral  stimulus  and  amusement,  but  you  should 
avoid  saying  anything  that  might  upset  or  worry 
her. 

"  You  will  forgive  me,  sir,  if  a  feeling  of  duty, 
and  of  respectful  attachment  to  the  baroness,  have 
made  me  write  thus  earnestly. —  And  believe  me, 
with  profound  respect,  your  obedient,  humble  serv- 
ant. Doctor  A.  N." 

"  To  THE  Baroness  Elena  Di  Santa  Giulia,  at 
Cefalu. 

"  Rome,  27TH  January,  1882. 

"  I  did  not  expect  the  obsequiously  worded  certifi- 
cate of  your  excellent  Doctor  Niscemi.  Rheuma- 
tism? It  is  a  slight  thing,  but,  nevertheless,  I  feel 
that  I  entered  your  sick-room  very  roughly. 
Forgive  me,  dear  Elena.  Well,  I  will  not  come  to 
Cefalu,  but,  instead,  I  will  try  to  give  you  all  the 
gossip  of  Rome.  And  I  will  try  to  be  pleasanter 
than  I  was  last  time. 

"  What  can  you  expect  ?  I  am  up  to  my  neck  in 
politics,  and  they  are  spoiling  my  manners  and  my 
style.  I  was  warmer  on  that  June  night,  in  the 
lake  in  my  garden.     The  first  plunge  into  the  parlia- 


711**1^ 


s/ 


206  THE  POLITICIAN 

mentary  ocean  freezes  one  to  the  very  heart. 
Amongst  my  new  colleagues  I  see  some  who  are 
numbed  with  the  cold,  bewildered,  ill  with  weari- 
ness and  home  sickness.  They  think :  Are  the 
heart  and  the  wisdom  of  Italy  here?  Last  Decem- 
ber a  minister  said  that,  in  comparing  our  politics 
with  those  of  Spain,  Bismarck  did  us  honor,  and  we, 
vain,  querulous  shadows,  puffed  up  with  self-satis- 
faction, were  silent. 

"  Meanwhile,  I  am  studying ;  I  am  studying  men 
and  things,  for  the  future.  The  present  is  not  good 
for  anything.  I  have  spoken  twice,  very  briefly, 
upon  perfectly  uninteresting  subjects,  just  to  tune 
the  instrument  and  find  the  keynote.  Last  time 
there  was  a  lady  in  the  president's  gallery  very  like 
you.  The  subject  being  the  agricultural  vote,  I 
spoke  on  the  woods  and  forests,  and  I  fear  that,  in 
honour  of  the  said  lady,  I  was  more  flowery  and 
shadowy  even  than  my  forests. 

"  I  ride  every  morning,  notwithstanding  politics. 
Colonel  B.,  now  in  command  of  the  Staff-College, 
has  lent  me  a  beautiful  little  Irish  bay  mare,  that 
jumps  like  a  cat.  This  morning  I  went  for  a  gallop 
beyond  Porta  Maggiore,  along  the  Via  Presentina, 
in  search  of  the  Temple  of  Quiet.  Used  there  not 
to  be  a  Temple  of  Quiet  somewhere  there  ?  But  it  is 
written  that  I  shall  never  find  it.  The  sky  was 
clear,  it  was  hot,  the  earth  was  dusty  and  green ;  the 
mountains  were  sprinkled  with  snow.  I  passed 
between  the  great  pine  tree  and  the  rocks  under 
which    we    used    to    sit  —  do    you    remember  ?  — 


THE  POLITICIAN  207 

amongst  the  poppies  while  we  watched  the  great  sea 
of  the  campagna,  with  its  tombs  and  spectres  of 
aqueducts.  My  mare  stopped  suddenly  near  to  a 
square  tomb  about  a  mile  farther  on,  just  by  the  Via 
Labicana.  Perhaps  she  thought  that  was  the  Tem- 
ple of  Quiet,  for  she  is  intelligent ;  or,  perhaps,  in  the 
silence,  she  heard  the  whistle  of  the  Naples  train. 
I  heard  it  too,  and  I  thought  of  Sicily  and  you,  but, 
penetrated  by  the  peace  fulness  and  solitude,  my 
thoughts  took  a  new  direction: 

"  Rome,  city  of  the  soul:  who  called  it  that?  I 
did  not  remember  that  I  had  a  body,  much  less  a 
horse,  between  my  legs.  Is  my  brain  giving  way, 
or  am  I  suffering  from  miasmatic  mysticism?  I 
do  not  think  it  is  likely;  but  is  a  bad  sign.  Im- 
agine that  sometimes  I  think  that  I  should  like 
to  go  and  live  in  the  palace  of  Septimius  Severus, 
with  Thomas  a  Kempis  and  the  ravens. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  talking  too  much,  and  you  are 
getting  tired.  I  must  remember  Doctor  Niscemi, 
and  this  letter  shall  be  continued  in  a  future  num- 
ber. The  thought  of  fatigue  comes  a  little  late, 
perhaps,  better  late  than  never.  Still  I  will  write  to 
you  again  soon.  Good-bye,  dear  Elena.  Salute 
your  good  doctor  for  me,  and  accept  a  cordial  hand- 
shake from  your  affectionate  cousin, 

"  CORTIS." 

"  To  Doctor  Antonino  Niscemi,  at  Cefalij, 

"  Rome,  27th  January,  1882. 
''  Sir, —  I  am  extremely  grateful  to  you  for  your 
letter  marked  confidential,  and  I  beg  you  to  furnish 


208  THE  POLITICIAN 

me  with  frequent  and  exact  accounts  of  the  state 
of  the  invahd.  Should  she  become  worse,  or  even 
should  she  not  show  immediate  improvement,  I 
would  strongly  advise  your  writing  directly  and 
secretly  to  Countess  Tarquinia  Carre.  In  case  you 
feel  that  personal  motives  might  make  it  difficult  for 
you  to  do  this,  I  will  willingly  undertake  to  ar- 
range that  the  countess  shall  come  to  Cefalu  with- 
out compromising  you. 

"  I  have  written  to-day  to  my  cousin,  carefully 
following  your  advice.  I  will  write  to  her  again 
shortly;  but  I  first  wish  to  discover  the  effect  of 
this  second  letter.  I  have  the  greatest  esteem  for 
my  cousin,  and  we  have  been  the  best  of  friends, 
but  we  do  not  always  exactly  agree  in  our  opinions ; 
and  then,  perhaps,  I  am  inclined  to  speak  out  my 
mind  a  little  too  clearly.  Believe  me  to  be  your 
obedient  servant, 

"  Daniele  Cortis." 

"  To    THE    Most    Illustrious    Deputy,    Signor 
Daniele  Cortis,  at  Rome. 

"Cefalu,  31st  January,  1882. 

"  Most  Illustrious  Signor, —  The  baroness  re- 
ceived your  last  letter  on  Tuesday,  the  day  before 
yesterday.  I  was  not  with  her  at  the  time,  and  she 
has,  as  yet,  said  nothing  to  me  on  the  subject.  I 
knew  it  from  her  maid,  who  told  me  that,  though 
her  mistress  had  said  nothing,  her  eyes  expressed 
great  satisfaction. 

"  For  my  own  part,  I  am  much  pleased  with  my 


THE  POLITICIAN  209 

new  treatment.  I  have  noticed  a  marked  improve- 
ment during  the  last  two  days.  Yesterday  the 
baroness,  who  generally  goes  straight  from  her  bed 
to  a  sofa,  was  able  to  walk  about  the  house  a  little, 
and  she  acknowledged  to  me  that  she  could  eat 
her  food  with  less  repugnance.  This  morning  I 
found  her  in  tears.  She  told  me,  smiling  as  she 
wept,  that  she  was  overjoyed  at  feeling  so  much 
better,  and  that  she  could  not  help  crying.  This  is 
merely  the  result  of  weakness,  which  is  still  great, 
and  her  diet  is  still  limited  to  milk  and  vegetables; 
but  if  once  we  can  bring  her  to  stand  iron  and  meat, 
I  hope  for  a  speedy  recovery.  With  profound  re- 
spect, I  am  your  most  humble  and  obedient, 

"  Doctor  A.  Niscemi." 

"  To  THE  Baroness  Elena  di  Santa  Giulia,  at 

CEFALiy. 

"  Rome,  4th  February,   1882. 

"Dear  Elena, —  You  neither  write  me  yourself, 
nor  do  you  make  any  one  write  for  you.  My  con- 
science tells  me  that  I  should  have  done  right  in 
satisfying  your  mother  without  further  ado.  Is 
the  rheumatism  not  gone  yet  ?  And  is  poor  Doctor 
Niscemi  at  the  end  of  his  science  ?  - 1  have  never 
been  clever  at  finding  the  equation  of  two  unknown 
quantities. 

"  The  other  day  I  wrote  to  you  from  the  Cham- 
ber; to-day  I  write  from  my  rooms  in  the  Via 
Principe  Amedeo,  with  my  windows  open  to  a  warm 
Petrarchesque  sun,  and  to  the  reviving  spring,  and 


2IO  THE  POLITICIAN 

also  to  all  the  trumpets  and  whistles  of  all  the  trams 
and  railways  that  Lucifer  has  put  into  the  world. 
Had  things  been  like  this  a  hundred  years  ago,  I 
fancy  that  Alfieri  could  not  have  written  the 
MEROPE  within  a  few  yards  of  my  house,  as  the 
inscription  on  the  stone  states;  and  I  should  never 
have  raised  a  laugh,  as  I  did  in  the  theatre  at  col- 
lege, by  declaiming  like  a  mad  man, — 

"  '  Alas,  how  great  an  undertaking  it  is  to  sup- 
port thee,  O  throne !  ' 

"  The  noise  is  a  drawback,  but  I  have  a  good 
view  of  the  slope  of  Viminale,  a  picturesque  medley 
of  tiled  roofs;  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  al- 
most underneath  my  windows,  I  have  a  beautiful 
green  carpet  of  acacias  and  roses,  brightened  by 
fountains,  and  to  the  left,  through  the  opening 
made  for  me  by  the  shady  road,  I  get  a  peep  of  the 
blue  sky  and  the  Albanian  mountains.  I  am  some 
way  from  the  Chamber,  but  I  could  not  live  in  that 
neighborhood;  and  until  Septimius  Severus  will 
let  me  a  room  in  his  house,  I  must  abide  by  com- 
monplace Rome. 

"  Speaking  of  the  Chamber,  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
the  other  day  that  I  have  spoken  in  favor  of  the 
monks,  and  of  the  Franciscan  monks  into  the  bar- 
gain. Oh !  I  can  hear  you  say.  But  I  say  yes, 
madam,  and  what  is  more,  I  spoke  very  well,  al- 
though my  words  fell  by  the  wayside  and  among 
thorns.  Imagine  that  it  had  been  suggested  to 
the  minister  to  increase  the  apportionment  to  our 
lay  schools  in  the  East,  and  to  diminish  those  given 


THE  POLITICIAN  211 

to  schools  kept  by  religious  bodies.  The  minister 
answered  very  feebly,  not  convinced  in  his  own 
heart,  but  bowing  before  so  much  wisdom.  C'est 
bete  mais  c'est  comnie  ga.  Only  one  member  of 
the  Left  dared  to  say  that  although  we  were  liv- 
ing in  the  light  of  philosophy  and  science,  those 
poor  Asiatics  were  still  in  the  shadow  of  religion, 
and  that,  if  we  wished  to  rescue  them  from  it,  we 
must  do  it  by  the  means  proposed,  as  France  had 
*  done !  At  present  one  can  say  nothing  more  popu- 
lar than :  '  See  what  they  have  done  in  France ! 
See  how  they  manage  these  things  in  England !  ' 
I  despair  of  ever  hearing  other  countries  say :  '  See 
how  they  do  these  things  in  Italy !  '  However,  this 
time  the  gentleman  in  question  just  gave  me  my 
.opportunity,  and  I  spoke  in  the  name  of  a  great 
political  interest,  and  on  behalf  of  those  poor  noble 
people  who  are  slaving  for  an  idea,  who  seek  neither 
fame,  honour,  nor  wealth,  and  whom  these  over- 
fed free-thinking  members  of  the  Budget  Com- 
mission wish  to  leave  in  the  lurch.  I  did  not  (Juite 
call  them  these  names  in  the  Chamber,  you  know; 
there,  I  rather  offered  incense  to  them.  After 
speaking  of  our  country's  interests,  I  begged  them, 
of  their  great  wisdom,  to  consider  that  if  that  splen- 
did civilisation  which  now  produces,  independently 
of  religion,  such  shining  parliamentary  lights,  no 
longer  needs  to  lean  upon  the  Gospel ;  it  would  be 
only  fair  to  restore  it  to  the  East,  which  lent  it  to 
us,  and  to  aid  the  monks  to  maintain  it  out  there. 
My    speech    produced    no    particular   effect,    either 


\y 


212  THE  POLITICIAN 

warm  or  cold.  Many  congratulated  me,  and  said  I 
was  right,  but  not  until  after,  the  sitting,  and  outside 
the  Chamber.  But  I  was  certainly  better  listened 
to  than  I  had  been  on  either  of  the  two  previous 
occasions. 

"  A  few  days  ago  a  lady  tried  to  persuade  me  to 
go  with  her  and  some  other  people  to  an  audience 
of  the  Pope.  I  declined,  as  I  could  not  go  with 
my  name  and  position  as  member  of  parliament.  I 
am  satisfied  to  go  and  visit,  whenever  I  can,  that 
lowly  pontiff  who  is  saying  the  De  Profundis  in 
the  Confession  of  St.  Peter,  and  who  always  gives 
one  plenty  to  think  about. 

"  I  have  need  of  God,  dear  Elena.  I  feel  that 
henceforward  my  life  ought  to  be  made  to  conform 
rigorously  to  the  opinions  which  I  laid  before  the 
electors,  and  for  which  I  intend  to  fight.  It  is  a 
political  duty  as  well ;  one  must  raise  one's  own  ban- 
ner and  fight  under  it;  one  must  stand  firm. 

"  By  which  I  mean,  dear,  that  my  passions  will 
be  no  danger  to  any  one.  The  one  which  I  fear  the 
most  is  my  temper.  I  shall  try  to  walk  along  my 
own  path  in  the  future,  and  not  to  box  the  ears 
of  any  one  who  does  not  desefve  it.  Pray  for  me 
as  regards  this  particular  danger,  for  here  there  are 
so  many  vulgar,  untrustworthy  and  boorish  people 
about  that  I  am  tempted  at  every  moment.  I  have 
not  very  much  time  to  pray  for  myself!  All  the 
same,  I  am  not  what  Aunt  Tarquinia  would  call 
an  '  infidel.'  Last  Sunday  I  went  to  mass  at  St. 
^     Peter's,   and   I   heard  the   most  wonderful  music. 


THE  POLITICIAN  213 

I  could  not  discover  whose  it  was.  I  am  an  outer 
barbarian  as  regards  music,  but  that  made  a  great 
impression  upon  me!  It  sounded  to  me  Hke  a  sin- 
ister prophecy,  a  voice  broken  with  weeping.  When 
I  came  out  of  church  the  sky  over  the  Vatican  was 
black,  and  only  a  ray  of  sunlight  gilded  the  foun- 
tain on  the  left,  the  colonnade,  and  the  palace; 
there  was  not  a  creature  in  the  piazza.  What  pre- 
sentiments did  I  not  feel  of  ruin  and  storm! 
'  Tout  cela  passera  comme  une  voix  chantante.'  In 
how  many  years?  Or  in  how  many  centuries?  It 
is  more  than  probable  that  our  grandchildren  or  our 
great-grandchildren  will  see  that  day.  A  poet  who 
is  a  friend  of  mine  said  to  me  the  other  day  that 
the  undecipherable  characters  engraved  upon  all  the 
obelisks  frightened  him,  and  that  they  seemed  to  him 
to  be  so  many  repetitions  of  '  Mene,  Mene,  Tckel, 
Upharsin,'  written  over  the  eternal  city.  I  cannot 
read  these  obelisks,  but  I  can  read,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  understand,  men  and  affairs  past  and  present, 
and  I  see  the  beginning  of  a  speech  that,  after 
heaven  knows  how  many  commas  and  full  stops, 
must  end  badly.  But  I  don't  lose  heart  on  this  ac- 
count. Would, it  seem  to  you  a  little  thing  if  I 
could  succeed  in  saving  a  generation  or  two?  The 
blindness  of  certain  people  annoys  me.  It  annoys 
me,  for  instance,  to  hear  the  deputy  L.,  a  very 
clever,  gentleman-like  man,  say  that  if  we  want  to 
improve  the  conditions  of  the  working  classes,  we 
must  not  preach  charity  and  a  future  state  to  them, 
but  what  are  and  what  are  not  profitable  invest- 


214  THE  POLITICIAN 

^^  ments.  As  if  the  age  were  not  suffering  from  sel- 
fishness in  its  very  vitals.  All  the  same,  I  envy  the 
man  who  will  see  not  only  the  ruins  of  St.  Peter's 
and  the  Vatican,  but  who  will  also  see  those  sublime 
pontiffs  of  the  last  days,  that  is  to  say,  if  they  are 
like  what  I  hope  and  imagine  that  they  will  be. 

"  My  mother  is  still  at  Lugano,  and  wishes  to 
come  to  Rome.  I  have  paid  her  debts,  and  made 
her  a  monthly  allowance  sufficient  for  her,  but  on 
condition  that  she  should  live  how  and  where  I  wish. 
Certainly  not  in  Rome,  at  least  not  as  long  as  I 
am  here. 

"  I  am  soon  going  to  Villascura,  'where  I  shall 
probably  spend  in  the  snow  the  few  days'  holiday 
that  we  have  in  carnival  time.  But  I  shall  first  of 
all  go  and  see  your  mother  and  uncle,  of  whom  they 
write  that  he  is  still  in  the  same  state.  Do  you 
know  who  often  talks  to  me  about  you?  That 
good  Clenizzi,  whom  I  meet  at  the  D.'s  sometimes 
in  the  evening.  I  can  never  meet  him,  not  even  in 
the  street,  without  his  saying  to  me,  in  that  curious 
idiom  that  he  always  employs  when  he  wishes  to 
be  confidential,  and  which  is  one-quarter  Italian  and 
three-quarters  Bergamesque :  '  And  she  ?  Have 
you  news  of  her  ? ' 

"  He  is  a  dear,  good  man,  the  pearl  of  the  Senate. 
Good-bye,  Elena.  You  see  I  have  not  forgotten 
my  promise  of  chattering  to  you.  Now  send  me 
some  news  of  yourself.  I  warmly  clasp  your  hand. 
Your  affectionate  cousin, 

"  CORTIS." 


THE  POLITICIAN  215 

"  To    THE    Most    Illustrious    Deputy,    Signor 
Daniele  Cortis,  at  Rome. 

"  Cefalu,  8th  February,  1882. 

"  Most  Illustrious  Signor  Deputy, —  The  cure  of 
the  baroness  is  going  on  very  favourably,  thanks 
to  our  Vivuto  waters.  But  now,  to  prevent  a  re- 
lapse, we  ought  to  have  some  medicines  which  the 
wretched  doctor  here  does  not  keep,  and  which  the 
contemptible  chemist  cannot  procure.  The  air  of 
my  beloved  Cefalu  is  no  longer  suited  to  the  bar- 
oness. I  have  already  written  to  this  effect  to  his 
excellency  the  baron ;  but  as  you,  sir,  know  so  many 
things  and  people,  I  take  the  liberty  of  writing  it  to 
you  as  well.  My  arguments,  if  you  will  kindly 
Jhink  them  over,  may  be  a  little  confused,  but  they 
are  nevertheless  sound. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  the  baroness  has  good  mental 
surroundings.  It  now  appears  that  as  you,  signor 
deputy  cannot  leave  Rome,  the  countess,  her  mother, 
means  to  come  in  person  and  carry  off  her  daugh- 
ter. Baroness  Elena  was  beside  herself  with  joy 
when  she  received  this  news;  then  immediately  af- 
terwards she  told  me  that  she  never  wished  to 
leave  Cefalu  again,  and-  she  went  out  on  to  the 
balcony,  ostensibly  to  look  at  the  sunset,  but  in 
reality  to  weep,  according  to  her  habit.  I  can't 
make  it  out.  Does  she  dread  having  to  remain 
for  ever  at  Cefalu,  or  does  she  really  wish  it?  If 
only  she  would  declare  herself  one  way  or  the  other. 
She  leads  here  the  most  miserable  life  in  the  world, 
seeing  no  one  but  my  wife,  who,  poor  dear,  stands 


2i6  THE  POLITICIAN 

in  great  awe  of  her,  and  who  is  an  excellent  com- 
panion for  me,  but  not  for  the  signora  baronessa. 
She  cannot  go  in  a  boat,  because  it  frightens  her 
at  once;  she  has  no  horses,  and  she  can  walk  but 
very  little  as  yet.  She  spends  the  whole  day  in 
playing  a  certain  barbarous  music,  dull  enough  to 
make  the  whole  of  Sicily  yawn,  and  she  gets  so 
much  upset  by  it  that  it  makes  me  wretched  to  see 
her.  I  come  and  cheer  her  up  a  little,  when  sud- 
denly a  wretched  boy  passes  under  the  windows 
(this  happened  yesterday)  singing, — 

" '  Wind  of  the  sea,  tell  me  how  he  is,' 

and  that  makes  milady  worse  than  ever.  It  is  true 
that  this  abominable  catcher  of  sardines  had  an  ac- 
cursed voice  like  a  violoncello,  wonderfully  sweet, 
and  that  his  music  was  not  German. 

"  I  therefore  beg  you,  sir,  to  use  your  influence 
in  having  the  baroness  removed  from  here.  Let  her 
go  far  away,  and  live  cheerfully  among  cheerful 
people,  and  let  her  play  the  blessed  music  of  Cim- 
arosa. —  With  profound  respect,  your  obedient  and 
devoted  "  Doctor  A.  Niscemi." 

« 

"  To  THE  Honourable  Daniele  Cortis,  Parli- 
amentary Deputy,  at  Rome. 

"  Cefalu,  14th  February,  1882. 

"Am  I  doing  right  in  sending  you  this  letter? 

Am  I  doing  wrong?     I  know  not.     Forgive  this 

incoherent   start.     I  have  been  more  ill  than  you 

think.     Now  I  am  getting  better.     God  knows  why. 


THE  POLITICIAN  217 

but  I  am  no  longer  Elena.  I  have  no  longer  that 
firm  will  of  mine,  but  am  like  a  leaf  that  trembles 
at  every  breath.  Even  my  intelligence  is  confused, 
and  my  heart  is  so  very  weak,  that  I  cry  at  nothing. 
A  trifle  irritates  me.  I  am  too  much  of  a  child, 
I  am  too  much  of  a  woman. 

"  I  have  received  a  letter  which  has  upset  me 
very  much  indeed.  It  was  from  your  mother,  im- 
ploring me  to  mediate  between  her  and  you.  She 
wishes  to  live  with  you, —  she  says  to  die  near  you, 
—  but  perhaps  she  deceives  herself,  for- one  cannot 
die  when  everything  promises  and  invites  one  to 
speedy  death!  But  why  do  I  speak  of  myself 
again?  Have  you  spoken  to  her  about  me?  My 
first  instinct  was  to  reply :  '  I  am  already  dead, 
turn  to  some  one  else.  I  wish  you  every  success.' 
Then  said  I  to  myself :  '  Daniele  has  written  me 
two  long,  interesting  letters;  I  will  thank  him  for 
them,  and  will  then  mention  this  to  him.'  Poor 
woman,  there  is  so  much  earnestness  in  her  pray- 
ers. Her  letter  also  contains  several  mysterious 
hints  and  dark  allusions  which  I  fail  to  under- 
stand. It  seems  that  some  member  of  my  family 
has  done  her  a  great  injury.  Who  can  it  be?  But 
it  is  not  this  which  disturbs  me.  for  you  cannot 
think  how  indifferent  I  have  become  to  certain 
things  now  that  all  my  nerves  are  unstrung.  It  is 
on  her  account  that  I  am  distressed.  I  think  you 
are  too  severe,  and  I  fear  that  you  are  unjust. 
You  have  found  a  bad  woman,  but  is  she  not  also 
an  unhappy  one?     And  who  knows  how  great  a 


2i8  THE  POLITICIAN 

part  nature,  men,  and  circumstances,  may  not  have 
played  in  her  sins?  Let  her  come  and  live  in 
Rome,  where  she  can  sometimes  speak  to  you,  and 
where  she  can  at  least  see  you.  Allow  her  to  come 
and  settle  in  the  same  town  with  you,  so  that  she 
may  be  certain  that  were  she  to  die  you  could  be  at 
her  bedside  in  an  instant  to  listen  to  her  last  words. 
Who  can  tell  what  may  not  spring  from  a  heart 
which  is  on  the  point  of  breaking?  It  must  be  a 
very  blissful  moment  in  which  one  can  feel  that  the 
end  is  near  and  that  one  can  speak  out  everything. 
I  am  positive  that  your  mother  cannot  have  had 
many  such  moments  of  happiness;  grant  her  this 
one.  Do  I  tell  you  to  take  her  into  your  house? 
No,  never.  The  woman  whom  I  wish  to  see  living 
in  your  house  must  be  absolutely  pure  and  upright ; 
but  have  pity  on  this  other  one.  Daniele,  I  am 
certain  that  God  chastises  the  haughty  virtue  which 
revolts  at  the  idea  of  contact  with  a  poor,  weak, 
tempted,  fallen  creature.  Be  strong;  and,  as  you 
are  strong,  be  merciful. 

"  My  head  is  beginning  to  tire,  and  Doctor  Nis- 
cemi  would  scold  me  if  he  knew  that  I  had  written 
so  long  a  letter.  To-morrow  he  means  to  carry  me 
off  to  Cerda,  and  thence  to  Termini,  to  pay  a  visit 
of  thanksgiving  to  certain  waters  which  he  fancies 
he  has  induced  me  to  take.  Poor  man.  If  he  only 
knew  how  little  I  have  obeyed  him.  I  shall  look 
for  a  letter  from  you-containing  a  favorable  answer. 
Let  even  me  do  a  little  good  in  this  world. —  And 
believe  me,  your  most  affectionate  cousin, 

"  Elena  di  S.  G." 


THE  POLITICIAN  219 

"  To  THE  Baroness  Elena  di  Santa  Giulia,  at 

CEFALtJ, 

"  Rome,  i8th  February,  1882. 

"  Poor  Elena,  it  was  like  her  to  write  and  worry 
and  sadden  you,  when  you  are  alone,  ill,  out  of  the 
world.  I  was  furious  when  I  heard  of  it.  Even 
you! 

"  Yes,  I  mentioned  you  to  my  mother  last  June, 
at  Lugano,  and  I  will  tell  you  how.  She  made  me 
a  mysterious  speech  to  dissuade  me  from  having 
anything  further  to  do  with  the  Di  Santa  Giulia 
family.  I  imagined  she  had  heard  some  stupid 
calumny,  for  she  had  secret  correspondents  at  Vil- 
lascura.  I  protested,  and  in  my  protestations  men- 
tioned your  name.  Thereupon  my  mother  declared 
that  she  intended  no  allusion  to  you,  though  she 
did  to  your  husband.  She  would  not  explain  her- 
self further,  but  promised  to  speak  to  me  again 
about  it.  Meanwhile  I  was  compelled  to  quit  Lu- 
gano hurriedly,  and  without  seeing  her  again,  and 
neither  she  nor  I,  in  our  letters,  have  mentioned  the 
subject.  I  will  even  acknowledge  that  I  have  not 
given  it  another  thought.  There  is  so  much  guile, 
and  such  a  false  ring  in  every  word  that  that  wo- 
man utters,  that  it  would  never  pass  as  good  coin. 
Probably  she  meant  to  tell  me  that  which  imme- 
diately crossed  my  mind;  my  disdain  made  her 
change  her  idea,  and  she  got  out  of  her  difficulty 
by  the  first  untruth  that  came  into  her  head. 

"  You  write  to  me  on  her  behalf,  Elena ;  you  think 
me  severe,  unjust;  you  implore  my  pity.  Have  you 
any  more  charges?     It  was  unfair  to  call  me  un- 


220  THE  POLITICIAN 

just  for  you  know  neither  her  nor  the  facts  of  the 
case.  It  seemed  to  me  better  that  she  should  re- 
main where  she  is,  out  of  the  world,  and  under  the 
care  of  a  trustworthy  person.  But  she  shall  come 
to  Rome,  and  she  shall  come  into  my  house,  for  I 

cannot  leave  her,  constituted  as  she  is,  all  alone, 

• 

to  come  and  go  as  she  pleases,  and  to  make  what 
friendships  suit  her.  Do  not  think  of  me,  Elena, 
nor  of  the  ideal  wife  you  desire  for  me.  I  do  not 
love,  and  I  shall  never  love;  I  have  no  time  for  it, 
nor  any  room  in  my  heart  for  such  a  bitter  vanity. 
A  family  would  only  be  a  hindrance  to  me.  I  al- 
ready live  in  the  bosom  of  the  beloved  family  of 
my  ideas.  Do  you  know  what  your  mother  used 
to  say?  'It  is  all  very  well  to  talk,  but  when 
Daniele  marries,  he  will  take  an  idea  to  wife.' 
Now,  I  have  married  several,  and  I  love  them. 
They  are  mine,  and,  God  willing,  we  will  raise  a  fine 
progeny  in  the  world.  I  said  this  last  night  to  M., 
as  we  were  walking  by  the  moonlight,  out  by  the 
butts  at  Trinita  dei  Monti.  Notwithstanding  the 
quilting  of  tow,  which  he  calls  statistics,  and  the 
gout,  which  he  calls  neuralgia,  M.  is  desperately  in 
love,  and  took  me  into  his  confidence.  Then  he 
asked  me  mine  in  return.  I  pointed  to  the  moon. 
*  Henceforward,'  I  said,  *  I  understand  no  one  who 
does  not  love  as  Caligula  did.  PLENAM  FUL- 
GENTEMOUE  LUNAM  INVITABAT  AS- 
SIDUE  IN  AXPLEXUS.'  Here  is  another  bit 
of  Latin   for  you  to   translate. 

"  Ah,  dear  Elena,  how  often,  as  I  thought  over 


THE  POLITICIAN  221 

my  ideals,  have  I  not  compared  myself  to  a  block- 
head contemplating  the  moon,  with  a  ladder  in  his 
hand.  Fortunately  my  doubts  pass,  and  my  con- 
fidence in  myself  is  prepared  to  face  much  severer 
trials  than  any  it  has  yet  had  to  bear.  But  how 
thankless  it  is  to  try  to  do  anything  with  this  flaccid 
Italian  good  sense,  which  rashly  demands  to  know 
what  is  the  estimated  balance,  and  yet  dreads 
to  be  thought  unpractical,  and  above  all,  to  lose  its 
dinner  hour  and  the  possibility  of  a  peaceful  di- 
gestion. At  heart  we  are  a  nation  of  herbalists. 
To  mature  our  ideas,  we  must  put  them  in  the  sun. 
In  the  Chamber  there  is  too  little  sun.  We  re- 
quire a  newspaper,  in  fact  it  is  absolutely  necessary 
for  me  to  have  a  newspaper,  yet  you  cannot  im- 
agine how  difficult  it  is  to  start  one.  Many  people, 
even  among  my  colleagues  in  parliament,  agree  with 
me  in  words,  but  when  it  comes  to  deeds,  then  the 
difficulties  appear.  The  country  is  not  prepared,  or 
the  moment  is  not  favorable,  or  my  scheme  of  in- 
ternal policy  cannot  be  carried  out  unless  I  have 
Trent  and  Istria  in  my  pocket ;  and  it  is  not  worth 
discussing.  You  will  tell  me  that,  as  regards  the 
country,  we  must  prepare  it,  that  one  must  be  in 
one's  place  at  the  right  moment,  and  that  if  every- 
thing depends  upon  a  great  success  in  our  external 
policy,  and  on  the  minister  who  obtains  it,  we  must 
begin  to  fight  without  delay.  And  what  answer 
should  I  make  to  you  ?  Nothing  very  clear.  One 
herbalist  won't  take  any  trouble,  another  won't  risk 
his  money,  a  third  is  afraid  of  what  his  friends  will 


222  THE  POLITICIAN 

say;  a  fourth,  of  his  constituents,  while  a  fifth 
has  the  fear  of  being  taken  for  a  clericaHst.  I 
shall  succeed  in  spite  of  all,  but  it  requires  energy, 
and  a  certain  amount  of  perseverance.  Now  let  us 
leave  these  perplexities. 

"  You  tell  me  that  you  have  been  more  ill  than 
I  think.  Then  why  stain  the  conscience  of  the  too 
tractable  Doctor  Antonino?  I  can  quite  under- 
stand your  having  concealed  the  whole  truth  from 
your  mother;  but  why  from  me?  And  how  can 
I  now  believe  you  when  you  say  you  are  getting 
better  ? 

"  Clenizzi  sends  his  best  remembrances.  I  dis- 
covered last  night  that  he  loves  music  even  better 
than  he  does  the  wine  of  Albano,  and  a  particular 
dish  called  '  casonsei,'  which  is  peculiar  to  Bergamo, 
and  of  which  he  partakes  once  a  week  at  Trastevere, 
at  an  inn  kept  by  a  compatriot  of  his.  Last  night 
at  the  P's  house  we  had  a  regular  concert  of  ancient 
music,  and  Donna  Laura  sang  one  of  Pergolese's 
songs,  which  actually  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of 
our  good  friend.  I  joked  him  a  little  about  it,  tell- 
ing him  that  I  should  write  to  you  and  tell  you. 
*  By  all  means,'  he  answered ;  *  and  send  her  at  the 
same  time  the  melody,  or,  at  least,  the  words  by 
Metastasio,  which  alone  are  worth  all  the  modern 
stuff.'  Here  are  the  words  as  I  copied  them  from 
Donna  Laura's  music  :  — 

" '  Should  they  seek  to  discover 
Where,  now,  is  your  friend, 
Your   unhappy   lover, 
Say  "  Death  was  his  end." 


THE  POLITICIAN  223 

Ah,  no !  do  not  give  her 
Such   sorrow   for  me ; 
"  He  wept  when  he  left  me," 
Your  answer  shall  be.' 

"  As  I  walked  home  I  remembered  an  anecdote 
which  Braga,  the  famous  violoncelhst,  once  told 
me,  and  which  I  do  not  think  I  have  ever  seen  in 
any  book.  '  The  Olympiad,'  the  opera  in  which  this 
song  occurs,  was  first  given  at  the  Argentina,  and 
cruelly  hissed.  Poor  Pergolese,  wounded  to  death, 
leaned  forward  in  his  stall,  covering  his  face  with 
his  hands.  The  theatre  emptied  gradually,  and  he 
was  still  sitting  there,  prostrated,  when  the  hand 
of  an  invisible  person  appeared  from  one  of  the 
boxes,  threw  some  flowers  over  him,  and  disap- 
peared. 

"  Happy  he!  for  no  greater  reward  can  be  given 
to  us  in  our  miserable  life  than  to  receive  flowers 
from  an  invisible  person.  Do  you  think,  Elena, 
that  she  and  Pergolese  are  together  now?  I  con- 
fess that  I  asked  myself  this  question  on  my  way 
home,  but  since  then  the  ballot  has  been  voted,  and 
I  have  thought  no  more  about  it. 

"  The  Chamber  has  adjourned  till  the  2d  of 
March.  I  start  to-morrow,  spending  Monday,  and 
possibly  Shrove- Tuesday,  at  the  Villa  Carre. 
Thence  I  shall  go  to  Villascura.  I  shall  have  worries 
even  there.  Protests  are  being  circulated,  and 
signatures  collected  against  my  speeches  and  the 
votes  I  have  given. 

"  They  may  hiss  me ;  what  matters  it  ?  No  hand 
will  throw  flowers  over  me ;  so  be  it !     Had  I  a  coat- 


224  THE  POLITICIAN 

of-arms,  I  should  choose  this  motto :  '  Against 
the  many.'  Good-bye,  dear  Elena.  Do  you  think 
that  she  and  Pergolese  are  together  now? 

"  Daniele." 

"  To  Senator  G.  B.  Clenizzi,  at  Rome. 

"  CEFALij,  4th  March,  1882. 

''  Dca}'  Clermd, —  I  know  that  you  have  always 
been  a  true  and  faithful  friend  to  me;  I  know  that 
you  remember  me  still  after  these  ages ;  therefore,  I 
thank  you  for  having  sent  me,  a  few  days  since, 
some  verses  which  touched  me,  as  they  did  you,  even 
without  Pergolese's  music,  and  Donna  Laura's  voice. 
But  for  my  part,  dear  Clenizzi,  poetry  is  dead  in 
me,  or  at  least  it  left  me  in  tears,  as  those  verses 
say,  tears  v/hich  I  have  exchanged  for  ugly  prose. 
I  prefer  prose  now,  however  sad,  however  hard  it 
may  be.  I  am  like  a  person  who,  having  lost  all 
that  was  most  dear,  throws  himself  into  the  driest 
business  and  flees  music. 

"  You  know  that  the  last  payment  agreed  upon 
between  my  husband  and  Boglietti,  under  penalty 
of  a  criminal  prosecution,  ought  to  be  made  on  31st 
March.  I  believe  that  we  are  in  great  difficulties, 
and  that  there  is  no  prospect  of  my  husband  finding 
the  money.  I  will  speak  quite  plainly  to  you  for  it 
costs  me  nothing  to  speak  out.  A  slight  illness, 
from  w^hich  I  am  recovering,  seems  to  have  deprived 
me  of  all  sensibility.  Certain  follies  make  me  weep, 
but  serious  matters  leave  me  indifferent. 

"  When  my  husband  went  to  Rome  last  Novem- 


THE  POLITICIAN  225 

ber,  there  remained  scarcely  anything  of  the  fortune 
that  he  received,  as  you  know,  in  the  summer.  The 
payment  he  had  to  make  in  September,  and  prob- 
ably other  debts,  had  swallowed  it  all  up.  It  is  on 
this  account  that  I  am  staying  here,  being  anxious 
to  avoid  every  unnecessary  expense.  When  my 
husband  went  away,  he  left  me  very  little  money, 
and  no  sooner  was  he  gone,  than  I  discovered  that 
he  had  left  a  number  of  wretched  little  debts  here 
to  workmen,  small  tradespeople,  and  so  on,  which 
made  me  blush !  I  had  the  money  here,  sent  to  me 
last  July  by  my  uncle,  and  which  you  drew  out 
of  the  National  Bank  for  me.  My  husband  knew 
nothing  of  this,  and,  as  I  knew  that,  after  his 
winnings  at  play,  he  would  not  be  in  immediate 
want  of  money,  I  kept  it  back,  meaning  to  apply 
it  to  this  quarter's  payment,  and  feeling  certain  that 
when  that  had  to  be  met  he  would  be  in  difficulties 
again.  But  poor  people  kept  coming  to  me  every 
hour  for  their  money.  I  wrote  to  my  husband,  who 
answered  that  I  must  persuade  them  to  be  patient, 
as  he  could  not  entirely  satisfy  their  claims  at  the 
moment.  What  was  I  to  do,  I  used  the  money 
to  pay  these  people  that  I  had  put  aside  for  my 
husband's  payment. 

"  My  husband  came  here  about  ten  days  ago. 
After  his  departure  I  learned  that  he  had  been  try- 
ing to  raise  money.  I  also  discovered  that  the  per- 
son from  w^hom  he  tried  to  borrow  would  only 
lend  him  the  money  c^i  condition  that  his  acceptance 
was  endorsed  by  my  mother.     My  husband  broke 


226  THE  POLITICIAN 

off  the  negotiations,  and  I  was  not  surprised  to  hear 
it.  Last  year  he  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  in- 
duce my  family  to  give  him  money,  which  was 
fruitless,  and  he  thought,  owing  to  a  misunder- 
standing into  which  I  need  not  enter,  that  my  uncle, 
my  mother,  and  I  had  combined  to  fool  him.  Now 
you  will  understand  his  pride.  I  believe  he  is  cap- 
able of  facing  utter  ruin  rather  than  accept  any- 
thing from  us.  There  is  good  metal  in  his  char- 
acter, which  will  always  ring  true  when  he  receives 
a  hard  blow.  When  he  heard  that  I  had  paid  those 
trivial  debts,  he  flew  into  a  passion,  and  wanted 
to  give  me  a  bond  by  which  he  promised  to  repay 
me  the  whole  sum.  I  reminded  him  then  of  the 
next  payment  of  interest,  and  he  told  me  that  was 
no  affair  of  mine.  Various  ill-omened  phrases 
which  have  escaped  him  at  different  times  keep  re- 
curring to  me.  For  instance,  last  summer  in  Rome, 
he  talked  to  me  of  what  he  would  do  if  he  could 
not  save  his  honour;  but  then  he  returned  to  the 
gaming  table,  intoxicated  with  his  luck. 

"  Dear  Clenizzi,  the  whole  matter  should  be  very 
simple.  All  that  the  most  devoted  wife  ought  to 
do,  I  will  do.  But  what  course  ought  I  to  follow? 
I  know  not,  and  I  am  physically  incapable  of  giving 
my  attention  to  it.  If  you  tell  me  that  I  must 
give  up  everything,  down  to  my  last  ring,  even  to 
live  on  charity,  I  will  give  it  up  and  die;  there! 
Now  tell  me  what  I  should  do.  You  will  think, 
why  does  she  not  write  to  her  own  people  ?  Ought 
I  to  write  them  ?     I  will !     But,   in  any  case,  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  227 

money  must  be  sent  to  you,  and  you  must  arrange 
matters  with  Boglietti  as  you  think  best,  and  re- 
membering how  my  husband  feels  toward  the  Car- 
res. What  sum  shall  I  ask  for?  Answer  me 
without  delay,  for  I  expect  my  mother  in  a  few 
days.  She  meant  to  come  by  sea,  but  she  might 
easily  change  her  plans,  and  come  by  Rome,  and  it 
would  be  well  that  she  should  bring  the  money  with 
her.  My  uncle  is  scarcely  convalescent,  and  I  don't 
wish  to  trouble  him  with  such  a  letter  when  he  is 
alone. 

"  I  am  ashamed,  my  dear  friend,  of  giving  you 
so  much  trouble,  when  I  can  offer  in  return  nothing 
but  a  little  cold,  worn-out  gratitude.  I  scarcely 
dare  to  offer  you  even  that.  I  will  only  say  to 
you,  do  a  good  work.  I  should  like  to  do  one  so 
much,  but  I  can  find  none.  Don't  tell  any  one  of 
this  letter,  and  when  you  have  time  to  give  a 
thought  to  the  useless  things,  give  one  to  your 
friend, 

"  Elena  di  S.  G." 

"  To  Baroness  Elena  Carre  di  Santa  Giulia, 

AT  CeFALU. 

"  Rome,  7th  March,  1882. 
"  Most  Charming  Friend, —  For  the  last  four  days 
I  have  been  shut  up  indoors  with  my  old  enemy. 
What  could  I  do?  The  matter  is  more  serious, 
perhaps,  than  you  fancy,  and  so  you  must  forgive 
me  for  sending  for  your  cousin.  Signor  Cortis,  for 
whom  I  have  great  respect.     I  told  him  everything, 


228  THE  POLITICIAN 

and  begged  him  to  act  in  my  place.  I  believe  that 
just  now  he  is  overburdened  with  work  —  parlia- 
mentary committees,  a  newspaper  to  start,  and  the 
question  of  the  redemption  of  the  Venetian  rail- 
ways, with  which  he  is  very  much  occupied.  But 
no  one  could  have  undertaken  it  with  greater 
alacrity.  Indeed,  I  had  scarcely  uttered  your  name 
when  he  offered  his  services  without  even  giving  me 
time  to  ask  for  them. 

"  For  myself,  I  can  only  give  you  one  bit  of 
advice.     Come  to   Rome. 

"  Forgive  my  bad  writing,  I  can  only  use  my 
left  hand.  I  kiss  your  hand  with  the  earnest 
hope  of  seeing  you  soon. —  Your  most  devoted 

"  G.  B.  Clenizzi." 

"  To  Baroness  Elena  di  Santa  Giulia,  at  Ce- 

FALl). 

"  Rome,  14th  March,  1882. 

"  Do  not  pity  me,  dear  Elena ;  I  could  not  refuse 
to  do  a  service  for  Clenizzi,  who  has  an  attack 
of  gout.  For  the  sake  of  this  best  of  men  I  would 
do  anything;  I  would  even  play  the  part  of  an  in-- 
truder. 

"  I  went  to  the  lawyer,  Boglietti,  on  Tuesday 
the  7th,  but  he  was  in  Florence  on  business,  and  I 
learned  that  he  would  not  return  before  yesterday 
evening.  I  saw  him  this  morning,  and  had  a  talk 
with  him,  and  am  charged  by  Clenizzi  to  tell  you 
what  has  been  settled.  Boglietti  was  very  anxious 
about  this  quarter's  payment.     The  sum,  including 


THE  POLITICIAN  229 

capital,  interest,  and  expense,  amounts  to  16,800 
lire.  I  tried  to  reassure  the  lawyer  by  telling  him 
that  if  his  debtors  were  not  in  a  position  to  pay,  the 
Carre  family  would  certainly  provide  the  money.  I 
took  the  opportunity  of  persuading  him  to  abstain 
for  a  time  from  taking  any  action  against  your 
husband  if  he  did  not  fulfil  his  obligations.  He 
promised  that  he  would  let  me  know  at  once  if  the 
money  were  not  forthcoming,  and  that  he  would 
wait  for  it  until  the  15th  of  April.  Now  Clenizzi, 
who,  by  the  way,  is  better,  wall  send  for  your  hus- 
band, and,  speaking  to  him  more  or  less  in  the  name 
of  the  President  of  the  Senate,  who  has  already 
taken  part  in  all  this  business,  will  ask  him  whether 
he  is  in  a  situation  to  pay  this  money  or  not.  Should 
his  answer  be  in  the  negative,  then  a  delay  will  be 
promised  him.  Meanwhile,  you  and  yours  have 
till  the  15th  of  April  to  make  the  payment,  or  to 
enable  your  husband  to  do  so. 

"  I  have  written  to  my  mother  to  come  to  me 
in  Rome  as  soon  as  possible.  If  it  is  to  be  done, 
it  were  better  done  quickly.  She  will  arrive  about 
the  end  of  the  month.  I  have  taken  from  to-mor- 
row, 15th,  an  apartment  in  the  Piazza  Venezia.  A 
very  noisy  place  —  my  mother  will  like  it.  I  don't 
know  why,  but  I  fancy  that  if  I  am  to  live  with 
her,  I  shall  prefer  noise  to  quiet.  But  what  does 
it  matter?  Life  with  her,  under  any  other  circum- 
stances, would  seem  to  me  intolerable;  now  I  feel 
so  different,  that  I  cannot  in  conscience  make  a 
merit  of  having  yielded  to  your  entreaties. 


230  THE  POLITICIAN 

''  I  shall  probably  soon  resign  my  seat  as  deputy. 
But  what  will  this  signify  to  you?  Ah,  Elena, 
Elena,  perhaps  I  am  wrong  to  write  to  you  in  this 
way,  but  if  my  heart  sometimes  overflows,  nothing 
but  gall  and  bitterness  can  be  expected  to  come  from 
it.  I  have  received  a  long  letter  from  my  constitu- 
ents complaining  of  my  conduct.  Do  not  think 
that  this  has  raised  the  gall.  The  letter  has  226 
signatures,  but  of  those  I  know  not  how  many  are 
forged,  and  how  many  are  those  of  non-electors, 
for  an  authenticated  copy  has  also  been  sent  to  the 
President  of  the  Chamber.  These  226  fools  have  no 
idea  of  the  service  they  are  doing  me.  At  any 
other  time  I  should  have  laughed  at  their  prose; 
now  it  is  most  lucky  for  me  to  be  able  to  leave  this 
sinking  Chamber,  and  to  present  myself  to  the 
electorate  at  the  general  election  with  the  support 
of  an  increased  franchise.  I  do  not  know  whether 
I  shall  resign  at  once,  or  whether  I  shall  wait  for 
the  discussion  of  the  army  estimates,  which  rather 
tempts  me.  I  shall  have  to  decide  quickly,  for  it 
appears  that  the  Chamber  is  to  be  prorogued  in 
the  course  of  the  next  ten  or  twelve  days.  I  shall 
make  a  noisy  exit,  and  break  as  many  windows 
as  possible. 

"  I  re-commence  at  home  this  letter  which  I 
began  at  the  Chamber,  where  I  intended  to  speak 
to-day  upon  the  redemption  of  the  Venetian  rail- 
ways. However,  I  let  it  pass  in  silence,  because 
every  one  was  thinking  of  something  else,  and  each 


THE  POLITICIAN  231 

had  his  own  project  for  redeeming  the  railways  of 
his  own  province, 

"  I  felt  ill  and  went  out  in  search  of  a  breath 
of  air,  with  my  speech  and  many  other  weighty 
matters  on  my  mind.  I  met  a  lady,  who  offered 
to  drive  me  to  the  Villa  Borghese ;  but  I  wanted 
to  think  over  an  article  on  Prince  Bismarck,  which 
I  ought  to  have  sent  to  a  review  three  days  ago, 
and  of  which  I  have  not  as  yet  written  a  line.  I 
therefore  declined,  and  drove  to  Villa  Wolkonsky, 
where  I  found  roses,  ruins,  ravens,  and  the  solitude 
that  one  seems  to  require  at  certain  psychological 
moments.  I  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  the  Claudian 
Aqueduct,  facing  Santa  Croce  in  Gerusalemme 
and  the  Romano  desert,  and  began  to  meditate  upon 
my  article,  when  suddenly  I  saw  standing  out  from 
the'  brick-work  of  the  old  columns,  close  to  me,  a 
beautiful  marble  hand,  with  a  well-turned  fore- 
arm. 

For  a  moment  I  did  not  think  of  Bismarck  or  his 
idea  of  a  cabinet  composed  of  one  responsible  Min- 
ister. Was  it  poetry,  Elena?  Was  it  sentimen- 
tality ?  When  can  I  have  caught  the  latter  disease  ? 
Be  conforted,  it  won't  last  long.  I  told  myself 
that  henceforward  little  white  hands  and  I  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  each  other,  and  I  finished  my  article 
with  so  much  ambitious  verbiage,  that  I  shall  have 
to  omit  half  of  it  when  I  come  to  write  it  out.  If 
I  grow  old  without  becoming  a  Minister,  I  shall  go 
and  be  a  hermit  at  Santa  Croce  in  Gerusalemme, 


232  THE  POLITICIAN 

and,  at  the  hour  of  noon,  when  the  sun  is  doing 
his  worst,  I  shall  come  up  here  under  these  lonely 
arches,  among  the  fragrant  and  melancholy  roses, 
to  meditate  upon  that  woman's  hand  and  the  days 
that  are  gone. 

"  I  think  that  Aunt  Tarquinia  will  be  with  you 
by  now.  Please  say  many -nice  things  to  her  for 
me. 

"  If  I  have  offended  you  in  undertaking  a  com- 
mission confided  by  you  to  Senator  Clenizzi,  and  in 
writing,  notwithstanding  your  silence  of  a  month, 
forgive  me. 

"  Clenizzi  wishes  to  be  most  kindly  remembered 
to  you  and  to  your  mother.  He  said  to  me  only 
to-day:  Tell  her  to  come  to  Rome  at  once,  with- 
out delay.  I  was  just  going  to  close  my  letter 
without  repeating  your  friend's  message.  Forgive 
me  for  this  too,  if  you  believe  in  the  devotion  of 
your  cousin, 

"  Daniele." 

"  To  Daniele  Cortis,  Parliamentary  Deputy, 
AT  Rome. 

"  Cefalu,  1 8th  March,  1882. 
"  Dear  Daniele, —  Elena  wishes  me  to  thank  you 
so  much  for  all  you  have  done,  and  to  tell  you  that 
she  wrote  to  Clenizzi  merely  because  she  knew  how 
busy  you  were.  What  can  one  expect?  You 
must  be  surprised  at  nothing.  What  will  you  say 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  write  to  you  from  Cefalu, 
but  that  I  am  staying  at  the  inn  within  a  few  yards 


THE  POLITICIAN  233 

of  my  daughter's  house?  I  don't  know  where  I 
am.  I  found  Elena  fairly  well  in  health,  but  very, 
very  low  in  spirits.  Poor  Elena,  if  I  am  unlucky 
in  having  such  a  son-in-law,  imagine  what  she  must 
feel.  Mercifully  she  is  less  sensitive,  less  nervous 
than  I  am;  in  her  place,  I  should  have  died  ten 
times  over. 

"  It  seems  that  we  are  to  leave  here  in  a  few 
days.  Thanks  to  you  we  can  probably  have  a  little 
breathing-time  before  making  this  payment;  but 
still  it  is  well,  as  Clenizzi  says,  to  be  on  the  spot. 
Please  take  a  sitting-room  and  two  bed-rooms  for 
us  at  the  Minerva,  not  too  high  up.  I  will  tele- 
graph to  you  the  day  of  our  departure,  that  is,  if 
we  don't  change  our  plans,  for  here  they  are  changed 
every  hour  of  the  day.     I  don't  recognise  Elena. 

"  I  left  my  brother-in-law  pretty  well.  It  was 
his  wish  that  I  should  go  to  the  inn.  Ah,  dear 
Daniele,  amongst  what  people  I  have  to  live. 

"  We  shall  meet  very  soon,  I  hope.  Try  to  get 
rooms  looking  over  the  Piazza. —  Your  affectionate 
aunt, 

"  Tarquinia." 

"P.  S, —  An  enigmatical  letter  has  just  come 
from  my  son-in-law,  which  has  increased  Elena's 
disquiet,  and  has  simply  terrified  me.  It  is  now 
settled  that  we  shall  arrive  in  Rome  on  the  24th,  by 
the  1 :45  express." 


CHAPTER  XII 

DIFFICULT  WALKING 

"  Signor  Boglietti !  "  cried  the  messenger,  enter- 
ing the  sitting-room  of  the  Chamber,  into  which 
persons  are  shown  who  wish  to  speak  to  the  deputies. 
The  room  was  crowded;  one  man  was  writing, 
leaning  over  the  messenger's  table,  another  was  en- 
tering bashfully,  while  another  was  hastily  quitting 
the  room ;  and  numbers  of  people  bearing  on  -their 
faces  either  weariness,  nervousness,  or  vanity, 
waited  in  silence. 

No  one  answered  the  messenger;  instead  every- 
body looked  at  his  neighbor. 

"  Signor  Cortis !  "  he  called  still  louder.  "  Who 
wants  Signor  Cortis?"  Then  a  man  who  was 
talking  in  a  low  voice  to  some  others  in  an  inner 
waiting-room,  rose  and  passed  into  the  dark  cor- 
ridor at  the  end  of  which  Cortis  was  expecting  him. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked  drily.  "Come  in," 
and  he  beckoned  the  lawyer  into  a  room  where  an- 
other visitor  was  confiding  in  his  representative. 
Boglietti  looked  at  these  two  and  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment.    Cortis  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  can  speak,"  he  said,  seating  himself. 

"  I  feel  deeply  grieved,  Signor  Deputy,"  he  be- 
gan, in  a  low  voice,  "  at  what  I  have  to  say  to  you, 

234 


THE  POLITICIAN  235 

and,   before   coming  to   the  point,   I   wish  you   to 
beheve  — " 

Cortis  looked  at  the  clock. 

"  Kindly  come  to  the  point,"  he  said  composedly. 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,"  answered  the  other.  "  I 
thought  over  the  delay  you  asked  for.  I  asked 
myself  whether  I  had  power  to  grant  it.  Perhaps 
I  had  not,  but  in  any  case  that  does  not  signify. 
I  might  have  had  the  power  had  a  delay  of  only 
a  fortnight  been  asked.  But  I  have  certain  infor- 
mation — " 

"  Go  on." 
'     "  Well,  I  know  from  a  person  who  has  it  from 
the  baron   himself,   that  at  this  moment  the  rela- 
tions  between   him   and   his   wife's    family   are   so 
bad  that  they  could  not  be  worse." 

He  paused  a  moment,  as  though  expecting  a 
remark  from  Cortis,  which  did  not  come. 

"  And  besides,"  he  continued,  "  I  know  that  the 
baron  is  in  great  straits  as  regards  other  most 
urgent  and  most  important  debts.  In  short,  had 
only  my  own  private  affairs  been  in  question,  I 
might  perhaps  have  let  the  matter  run  on;  but,  as 
it  is—" 

"You  withdraw  your  promise?"  broke  in  Cor- 
tis rising. 

The  lawyer  also  arose,  protesting  that  he  did 
not  remember  having  given  any  formal  promise, 
and  that  he  was  deeply  grieved.  At  that  moment 
the  other  deputy,  having  got  rid  of  his  interlocutor, 
said  to  Cortis, — 


236  THE  POLITICIAN 

"Are  you  not  coming?     There's  a  division." 

"  I'm  coming,"  answered  the  latter,  "  and  per- 
haps for  the  last  time." 

"  Nonsense !  "  exclaimed  his  friend,  disappear- 
ing down  the  corridor. 

"  That  is  all,"  continued  the  lawyer.  "  I  have 
therefore  been  compelled  to  write  to  the  Baron  Di 
Santa  Giulia  this  morning,  warning  him  that  no 
delay  can  be  granted." 

"Have  you  done  this  already?"  asked  Cortis, 
looking  directly  at  him,  with  sarcastic  coldness. 
"  Come  and  see  me  to-morrow  morning  at  nine 
o'clock." 

"  To-morrow,  Saturday,  the  25th,"  said  the  other, 
thinking  over  the  date,  and  stroking  his  beard,  "  I 
cannot  come  at  nine;  I  cannot  be  with  you  before 
twelve." 

"  So  be  it ;  twelve  o'clock.  At  my  house.  You 
know  where  it  is  ?  " 

"  Yes,  signor." 

Boglietti  departed,  and  Cortis  again  looked  at 
the  clock. 

It  was  just  three.  Elena  and  Countess  Tar- 
quinia  should  have  reached  the  Minerva  an  hour 
ago.  Cortis  had  begged  Clenizzi  to  meet  them  at ' 
the  station  instead  of  going  himself.  He  entered 
the  division-lobby,  and  ten  minutes  later,  leaving 
Montecitorio,  he  was  walking  very  slowly  towards 
the   Pantheon. 

Someone  who  met  him  declared  afterwards  that 
he  had  never  seen  him  so  pale.     He  felt  Elena  near 


THE  POLITICIAN  237 

him,  but,  mingled  with  this  feehng  were  others, 
other  thoughts, —  other  necessities,  which  he  did 
not  clearly  understand,  but  which  seemed  to  be- 
come heavier  and  heavier  every  moment.  First  of 
all  there  was  his  speech  —  that  speech  that  he  in- 
tended to  have  made  the  next  day  before  announc- 
ing his  resignation;  a  speech  intended  to  pass  the 
walls  of  the  Chamber,  and  to  pierce  the  ears  of 
future  electors,  he  required  for  that  alone  all  his 
nerve  and  all  his  courage.  Then  there  was  this  fresK 
difiiculty  with  the  affairs  of  Di  Santa  Giulia,  and 
the 'necessity  for  meeting  it  at  once,  then  the  ob- 
scure postscript  to  Countess  Tarquinia's  letter.  He 
-had  mado  an  appointment  for  the  next  day  with 
the  lawyer  wnthout  a  very  clear  idea  of  what  he 
intended  to  do,  merely  with  the  feeling  that  he 
must  lift  this  w^eight  off'  the  baron,  even  if  neces- 
sary, by  taking  it  upon  himself.  The  Carres  would 
afterward  approve  his  action.  How  to  reconcile 
this  plan  with  the  CONVENANCES,  and  with  the 
feelings  of  the  baron,  he  knew  not ;  he  would  think 
that  over  during  the  night.  His  last  cause  of 
trouble  was  the  imminent  arrival  of  his  mother. 
He  was  making  this  sacrifice  for  Elena,  but  what 
w^ould  he  not  have  done  for  her.  As  he  came  nearer 
to  the  truth,  he  felt  less  and  less  that  indifference 
of  which  he  had  written  her  in  perfect  sincerity. 

He  thought  now  that  all  these  preoccupations  had 
combined  to  bring  about  this  novel  bodily  weariness, 
this  strange  torpor,  which  he  had  hitherto  laid  to 
his  excessive  work  and  sleepless  nights ;  now  he  at- 


238  THE  POLITICIAN 

tributed  it  to  the  arrival  of  Elena,  who  filled  Rome 
with  her  presence,  and  made  the  very  air  itself 
warm,  soft,  and  enervating.  In  Piazza  Capranica 
a  man  addressed  him  by  name,  and  added,  "  This 
evening."  He  then  remembered  that  he  had  called 
for  that  evening,  in  his  rooms,  a  meeting  of 
political  friends,  subscribers,  and  contributors,  se- 
cured or  desired,  to  the  new  paper,  to  hear  from 
him,  Cortis,  the  outline  of  his  speech,  and  they  were 
to  be  asked  to  discuss  it ;  because  upon  that  speech 
the  paper  was  to  be  founded.  "  This  evening,"  he 
had  said,  and  Cortis  felt  his  heart  warmed  anew 
by  the  lofty  ideal  that  he  had  set  before  his  mind, 
and  by  the  austere  duty  that  he  had  imposed  upon 
himself;  he  felt  that  all  the  weak  fancies,  the  mis- 
givings, had  vanished,  and  that  fresh  strength 
had  been  infused  into  him. 

On  reaching  the  Minerva,  he  found  a  crowd  of 
old  ladies  and  French  priests.  The  porter,  who 
was  talking  to  a  fine-looking  Capucin,  noticed  Cor- 
tis, and  said  to  him  at  once, —  ' 

"  The  ladies  have  come.  Senator  Clenizzi  has 
just  quitted  the  hotel,  leaving  a  message  that  if  you 
came  you  were  to  go  up  to  the  countess  imme- 
diately." 

Cortis  was  kilown  at  the  hotel,  and  he  himself 
had  chosen  Countess  Tarquinia's  rooms  on  'the 
second  floor.  He  went  upstairs,  and  found  her 
alone,  in  the  worst  of  tempers,  her  face  burning, 
and  her  well-preserved  good  looks  spoiled  by  the 
tiresome  journey.     She  received  him  badly,  declar- 


THE  POLITICIAN  239 

ing  that  politics  had  ruined  him  mentally  and  phys- 
ically, that  he  was  lean  and  wrinkled,  and  hideous 
to  look  upon.  Why  had  he  not  come  to  the  station 
to  meet  them,  instead  of  sending  that  poor  old 
donkey  Clenizzi  ?  Certainly  politics  was  a  much 
.more  serious  disease  than  gout! 

"  And  then,"  she  continued,  "  it  pleases  your 
lordship  to  keep  us  waiting  a  century  at  the  hotel 
before  you  come  near  us.  It's  no  use  contradicting 
me.     I  say  a  century!" 

"  And  Elena  ?  "  asked  Cortis. 

The  lady,  piqued  by  his  indifference,  made  no 
reply,  and  continued  her  lecture, 

"  I  can't  say  much  for  the  rooms  you  have  chosen. 
It  is  evident,  dear  boy,  that  you  have  no  women 
in  your  house." 

"  I  shall  soon  have  one,  aunt,"  said  Cortis 
quietly. 

Countess  Tarquinia  felt  that  her  remark  had 
been  thoughtless.  She  blushed  scarlet,  and  held  her 
tongue. 

"Well,"  said  Cortis  again,  "how  is  Elena?" 

"  Give  me  your  hand  and  let  us  make  friends," 
answered  the  countess,  restored  to  good  temper. 
"  Elena  is  very  w^ell,  and  I  am  very  pleased  with 
her." 

She  pronounced  these  last  words  in  a  loud  voice, 
pointing  to  the  door  of  the  next  room,  then  she 
covered  her  face  for  a  moment  with  her  hands, 
waved  them  in  the  air,  and  raised  her  eyes  to 
the  ceiling. 


240  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  can't  make  her  out,"  she  whispered,  making 
herself  understood  rather  by  her  gestures  than  by 
her  words;  "  I  can't  make  her  out." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Cortis,  feeHng  bored  with  her. 

Then  Elena  stood  in  the  doorway  of  her  room, 
pale,  smiling,  her  hair  in  disorder,  her  eyes  larger, 
her  whole  appearance  more  delicate  than  ever.  She 
looked  like  a  young  girl.  When  she  took  Cortis 
by  the  hand,  there  was  no  longer  a  smile  on  her 
face,  not  even  a  slight  tremor  of  the  mouth.  They 
exchanged  a  few  cold,  stiff  words  in  a  low,  un- 
certain voice.  Then  followed  a  silence.  Elena 
looked  at  her  mother. 

"  My  dear  child !  "  said  Countess  Tarquinia, 
*'  why  don't  you  speak  ?  Very  good,"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  sigh,  after  vainly  waiting  for  an 
answer,  "  if  you  won't  talk,  I  will.  Dear  Daniele, 
we  must  put  our  heads  together  without  delay. 
You  understand?  Poor  Daniele,  you  have  already 
done  so  much  for  us,  and  we  are  so  grateful  to 
you.  Indeed  we  are,  so  grateful ;  sincerely  and 
from  our  hearts!  Don't  be  hurt  with  Elena  for 
not  speaking  to  you,  because,  sometimes  she  is  over- 
come by  her  feelings,  poor  thing,  like  her  mother." 

Elena  raised  her  dark,  shining  eyes  to  Daniele. 
Neither  he  nor  she  spoke. 

"  You  are  aware,  are  you  not,"  continued  the 
countess,  "  of  certain  mad  speeches  that  my  son-in- 
law  has  made  at  Cefalu?  Good.  You  know  also 
about  his  letter  ?  I  wrote  to  you  from  Rome  about 
it,  but  you  do  not  know  the  end  of  the  story.     I 


THE  POLITICIAN  241 

will  tell  you.  I  must  begin  by  saying  that  no  one 
ever  wrote  to  us  at  Casa  Carre ;  that  my  brother-in- 
law  and  I  were,  so  to  speak,  excommunicated  until 
last  summer,  as  if  it  had  all  been  my  fault.  Well, 
well,  perhaps  it  is  better  not  to  rake  up  those  mat- 
ters again.  At  last  I  found  myself  able  to  go  to 
Elena,  and  you  know  what  distress  I  was  in;  I 
hope 'that  not  even  a  dog  may  ever  have  to  suffer 
as  I  did.  Well,  I  arrived,  and  naturally  I  went  to 
the  inn.  No,  indeed,  I  am  not  going  to  piish  my- 
self into  other  people's  houses.  Besides,  Lao  would 
have  beaten  me.  The  fact  remains  that,  four  days 
after  my  arrival,  just  time  enough  for  him  to  have 
become  aware  of  it,  this  letter  arrives  from  Rome." 
.     "  For  you,  aunt?  " 

"No;  for  Elena." 

With  the  frowning  face  and  the  inflections  of  one 
who  carefully  repeats  the  impertinent  words  of  a 
disagreeable  person,  the  countess  began  to  declaim 
as  follows :  — 

^ "  The  baron  knew  perfectly  well  that  his  dear 
mother-in-law  was  at  Cefalu,  and  that  she  had  not 
dared  to  occupy  a  room  in  his  house.  This  was 
the  most  deliberate  acknowledgment  the  Carres 
could  make  of  their  unworthy  treatment  of  him 
(those  were  his  very  words).  .They  would  soon 
see,  however,  that  their  behaviour  had  brought 
about  still  more  serious  consequences,  though  Elena 
might  feel  perfectly  certain  that  he  would  not  lower 
himself  for  fear  of  anything  they  could  do.  He 
would  shortly  have  the  pleasure  of  showing  them. 


242  THE  POLITICIAN 

and  her,  and  the  whole  world,  how  strong  in  him 
was  the  feeling  of  duty  and  honour;  he  had  a 
certain  punishment  in  store ;  he  did  not  explain  what, 
for  his  dear  relations,  and  worse  still  if  they  had 
a  particle  of  conscience  left.  Elena  was  not  to 
pretend  that  she  had  been  sent  to  Cefalu.  He  was 
generous,  and  left  her  perfectly  free  to  go  and 
live  where  she  pleased.  From  now  on,  he  should 
care  for  nothing  in  the  world.  In  a  short  time 
he  would  leave  her  still  more  at  liberty." 

"  Do  you  understand  ?  "  the  countess  went  on. 
"  I  say  that  it  is  all  nonsense,  but  it  has  frightened 
her  dreadfully.  Then  I  thought  that  I  would  an- 
swer him  on  the  point  of  our  acknowledgment  of 
the  bad  treatment  he  had  received  from  us,  and. 
upon  his  humbling  himself  before  us;  and  I  think 
that  I  answered  him  kindly,  weighing  my  words 
with  the  deliberation,  though  I  say  it  who  shouldn't, 
of  a  saint.  I  told  him  that,  profiting  by » his  per- 
mission, I  should  take  Elena  to  spend  some  time  in 
Veneto,  but  that  we  should  remain  for  a  few  days 
in  Rome,  so  as  to  see  him.  I  added  a  few  affec- 
tionate words  about  his  anger  against  us,  and  our 
desire  to  help  him  by  every  means  in  our  power. 
Elena  added  a  note  to  my  letter,  in  which  she  said 
that  she  was  coming  to  Rome  to  help  him,  even 
against  his  will,  and  told  him  the  day  and  hour 
of  our  intended  arrival,  and  the  hotel  at  which  we 
would  stay.  He  has  sent  no  answer,  but  let  that 
pass;  perhaps  he  hasn't  had  time  yet.  We  arrive, 
hoping  to  find  him  at  the  station.     Not  at  all.     We 


THE  POLITICIAN  243 

ask  Clenizzi  about  him,  and  Clenizzi,  red  as  Bac- 
chus, boggles  over  some  story  of  having  seen  him 
this  morning,  that  he  was  quite  weU,  and  that  he 
might  be  gone  here  or  there.  There  was  no  time 
for  explanations,  but  it  is  quite  clear  that  our  letters 
have  had  no  effect.  Now,  tell  me,  this  question  of 
the  day  of  payment  is  quite  settled  ?  " 

"  Yefi,  yes;  quite  settled,"  answered  Cortis  hur- 
riedly, not  wishing  to  worry  them  unnecessarily; 
for,  although  it  was  not  quite  settled  at  that  mo- 
ment, it  would  be  at  twelve  o'clock  the  following 
day. 

"  And  he  knew  of  this  delay  ?  "  asked  the  countess. 

"  He  knew  all  about  it." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  I  have  not  spoken  to  him  on  the  subject,  but 
Clenizzi  told  us  that  he  seemed  to  be  pleased,  and 
thanked  him  very  much." 

"  Good ;  and  now  tell  me,  dear,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  It  is  evident  that  he  doesn't  mean  to 
show  himself.  Ought  we  to  write  to  him?  Ought 
we  to  go  in  search  of  him  ?  " 

Countess  Tarquinia  began  to  gasp  with  anxiety, 
biting  her  lower  lip  and  blinking  her  eyes,  as  if  the 
idea  of  going  in  search  of  her  son-in-law.  after  the 
insults  she  had  received  from  him,  had  brought 
tears  of  rage  from  her  heart. 

Elena  had  not  opened  her  mouth.  Seated  op- 
posite to  her  mother,  she  seemed  to  have  paid  no 
attention  whatever  to  her  long  speech,  looking  with 
tired,  motionless  eyes  into  space. 


244  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  What  was  the  date  of  the  letter?  "  asked  Cor- 
tis,  after  thinking  for  a  minute. 

"Which  letter?" 

"Your  son-in-law's;  Ihe  last  one." 

The  countess  could  not  remember;  she  looked  at 
her  daughter. 

"  Elena/'  she  said,  "  can  you  help  me?  That  let- 
ter?" ^ 

"  You  have  it,  mamma,"  answered  Elena  sweetly. 

Then  a  sudden  blush  overspread  her  face.  She 
had  not  considered,  before  giving  her  answer,  that 
now  she  would  probably  be  left  alone  with  Cortis. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  the  countess,  "  but  I  will 
see." 

She  had  scarcely  left  the  room  when  Elena 
stretched  out  her  hand  to  Cortis,  who  seized  it  in 
both  his  own.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and 
she  said,  in  a  very  low  voice, — 

"  Forgive  me!  "  • 

"Oh!"  he  answered,  "but  why?" 

Elena  saw  in  his  face  what  he  was  on  the  point 
of  saying;  he  wanted  to  ask  the  reason  for  her 
coldness,  for  her  silence  of  two  months.  She  inter- 
rupted him  hurriedly. 

"  No,  no ;  it  is  not  that  you  are  to  forgive  me. 
It  is  something  else.  I  must  speak  to  you  at  an- 
other time." 

The  door  of  Countess  Tarquinia's  room  sounded 
as  if  it  were  opening.  It  was  not  so,  but  Elena 
withdrew  her  hand.  They  looked  at  each  other  for 
a  few  seconds.     Then  the  countess  entered,  having 


THE  POLITICIAN  245 

found  the  letter.  She  could  not  see  Elena's  face, 
but  she  could  see  Daniele,  and  stopping  short,  she 
said, — 

"Are  you  ill?" 

"  No,  aunt." 

His  voice  was  firm  and  clear. 

"  The  1 6th  of  March,"  added  the  countess,  point- 
ing to  the  letter. 

"  One  rhinute,"  said  Cortis.  "  I  believe  I  wrote 
to  Elena  on  the  14th,  and  the  first  mention  of  the 
delay  was  made  to  him  at  least  three  days  later, 
because  Clenizzi  could  not  see  him  before  the  17th, 
he  knew  nothing  of  it  therefore  when  he  wrote 
that  letter.  He  will  be  appeased  now.  Does  he 
know  that  you  are  at  the  Minerva?" 

"  Yes,  we  wTote  and  told  him  so." 

"  Well,  then,  if  he  does  not  come  to-day,  Elena 
might  go  and  look  for  him  to-morrow,  and  mean- 
while she  might  send  him  a  note." 

As  he  spoke,  Cortis  turned  to  his  cousin,  who 
said  to  him  quietly,  and  without  the  least  embarrass- 
ment,— 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Senate  in  an  hour  with 
Clenizzi." 

"  Bless  me,"  exclaimed  the  countess ;  "  here  you 
are  making  arrangements  on  the  sly  right  and  left, 
and  never  saying  a  word  to  us  about  it.  And  here 
are  we  spending  our  time  in  consulting  what  is 
best  to  beMone." 

"  You  are  right,  mamma,  I  am  very  careless.  I 
thought  you  had  heard  of  it." 


246  THE  POLITICIAN 

Cortis  went  away  a  few  minutes  later,  notwith- 
standing his  aunt's  entreaties  that  he  would  stay 
at  least  till  Clenizzi's  arrival,  so  that  they  might 
make  other  plans  together.  She  finished  by  telling 
him  that  for  this  once  she  would  let  him  go,  but 
that  if  he  expected  forgiveness  for  his  other  sins, 
he  was  to  put  himself  at  her  disposal  the  following 
morning,  and  that  she  would  not  take  politics  as 
an  excuse  should  he  fail. 

"  Politics  are  all  very  well,"  said  the  countess, 
"  but  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  was  in  Rome,  and 
I  don't  want  to  go  away  without  seeing  anything. 
To-morrow  is  Saturday;  is  not  the  Borghese  Villa 
open?  It  will  make  an  object  for  a  drive,  at  any 
rate." 

Cortis,  his  thoughts  intent  on  that  hand  so  hastily 
withdrawn,  that  look  so  quickly  downcast,  went  into 
the  Piazza  Minerva  to  wait  for  Clenizzi.  He  wished 
to  warn  him  and  prevent  his  taking  'Elena  to  the 
Senate.  It  was  not  best  that  she  should  see  the 
baron  just  then.  Cortis  wished  to  see  him  first; 
and  reassure  him  as  to  the  delay  refused  by  the 
lawyer  Boglietti.  Clenizzi  came  limping  and 
grumbling  along  the  Via  della  Palombella-.  He 
hastened  as  soon  as  he  saw  Cortis,  signalling  to 
him,  and  at  last  coming  up  to  him  breathless  and 
exhausted,  crying :  "  Don't  you  know  ?  Haven't 
you  heard?"  and  seizing  his  arm  he  began  to  re- 
late how  he  had  had  a  visit  from  Di  Santa  Giulia, 
who  was  furious  because  he  had  received  a  letter 
from    the    lawyer    retracting   the   promised    delay. 


THE  POLITICIAN  247 

Clenizzi,  amazed,  could  only  say  that  he  knew  noth- 
ing about  it.  The  other,  ruffian  that  he  was,  had 
answered  him  brutally.  Then  Clenizzi  had  felt  his 
good  Bergamese  blood  boil,  and  had  given  him  a 
piece  of  his  mind.  His  hands  and  chin  were  still 
shaking  with  anger,  and  he  growled  like  an  en- 
raged old  mastiff,  but,  all  the  same,  it  was  like 
the  impudence  of  that  Signor  Boglietti.  What 
right  had  he'  to  make  and  break  promises  ?  An  old 
simpleton,  to  s^y  the  least  of  it.  And  now,  how 
could  he  take  the  baroness  to  the  Senate?  What 
could  he  say  to  her? 

Cortis  quieted  him.  It  would  suffice  to  tell  Elena 
that  her  husband  had  left  the  Palace,  and  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  search  for  him  elsewhere.  As 
for  the  business  with  Boglietti,  he  was  not  to  worry 
about  that.     Cortis  would  settle  it. 

"  My  dear  Signor  Cortis,"  exclaimed  the  senator, 
breaking  excitedly  into  his  dialect,  which  he  after- 
wards translated ;  "  they  are  all  ruined  now." 

The  image  of  Elena,  her  gentle  words :  "  forgive 
me,"  the  action,  voice  and  look  that  had  accom- 
panied the  words,  took  possession  again  of  Cortis 
as  soon  as  he  was  alone.  Other  images  assailed 
him,  too ;  the  conversation  desired  by  her,  the  letter 
from  her  husband,  his  words :  "  in  a  short  time  he 
would  leave  her  still  more  at  liberty."  Terrible 
words !  He  saw  in  his  heart  something  that  would 
have  disgusted  him  had  he  not  known  that  every 
human  heart  is  like  an  open,  clean,  well-furnished 
house,    into    which   thieves,    who   are   not   invited, 


248  THE  POLITICIAN 

may,  without  any  blame  attaching  to  the  owner, 
sometimes  break  their  way  and  remain  for  a  space. 
He  hastened  on,  without  noticing  that,  buried  in 
thought,  he  had  unconsciously  reached  the  Piazza 
Venezia.  Pricked  by  remorse,  he  turned  back  to 
the  Senate,  and  having  learned  that  Di  Santa  Giulia 
lived  in  the  Via  delle  Muratte,  he  went  straight 
there.  He  must  reassure  him.  The  payment  of 
the  31st  March  would  be  provided  for,  but  he  must 
believe  that  this  help  came  from,  the  Government, 
and  that  attached  to  it  was  the  condition  of  volun- 
tary resignation  of  his  senatorship;  that  was  the 
only  course  to  pursue.  Di  Santa  Giulia  was  wont 
to  boast  that  he  had  deserved  well  of  the  Left ;  per- 
haps he  believed  it.     There  was  no  other  course. 

The  Senator  was  out.  Cortis  wrote  a  message 
upon  a  card  begging  him  to  come  and  see  him  *'  on 
very  important  business,"  the  next  day,  Saturday,  at 
noon.  He  inquired  of  the  portress  who  opened  the 
door,  whether  the  Senator  would  certainly  come  in 
before  the  next  morning.  She  believed  he  would ; 
but  the  Senator  had  become  so  queer  lately.  He 
talked  to  her  so  oddly  at  times,  that  she  would 
not  be  surprised  at  anything.  He  must  have  great 
troubles,  poor  gentleman.  The  woman,  a  Tuscan 
chatterbox,  would  have  gone  on  for  long  if  Cor- 
tis had  given  her  the  chance ;  but  he  had  to  return 
home.  Passing  a  ch&mist's  shop,  he  went  in  and 
asked  for  a  sleeping-draught ;  he  threw  on  the  coun- 
ter a  prescription  borrowed  from  a  friend,  and  said 
he  wanted  a  dose  rather  stronger.     For  some  time 


THE  POLITICIAN  249 

past  he  had  suffered  greatly  from  want  of  sleep. 
Physically  robust,  he  despised  every  bodily  require- 
ment, and  ignorant  of  every  kind  of  physic,  he  never 
took  medicine  except  when  suffering  prevented  him 
from  work  or  action ;  then  he  took  it  violently,  fight- 
ing the  trouble  with  the  most  powerful  remedies. 
At  home  he  ordered  a  cup  of  the  strongest  coffee, 
meaning  to  take  the  chloral  that  night  before  going 
to  bed;  then  he  shut  himself  up  to  work  in  his 
study,  wherp  ten  or  twelve  chairs  were  prepared 
for  the  friends  whom  he  expected  at  nine  that  even- 
ing. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

VERTIGO 

At  a  quarter  past  nine,  a  group  of  men  were 
assembled  in  Cortis's  room,  talking  and  smoking, 
while  he  moved  about  among  them  with  heightened 
colour  and  shining  eyes,  joking  and  chattering  as 
though  Elena,  her  husband,  and  SignoaCortis  had 
never  existed,  and  as  if  every  difficulty  had  been 
banished  forever.  There  were  some  young  depu- 
ties, in  white  neckties,  quite  ready  to  talk  politics, 
and  to  laugh,  later  on,  at  some  smart  party  about  it, 
—  there  were  some  old  senators,  who  took  matters 
gravely,  and  were  not  quite  at  their  ease  in  the 
company  of  the  young  men,  there  were  two  or  three 
young  men  who  took  matters  still  mo're  gravely,  and 
who  had  just  returned  from  a  course  of  social 
science  in  Germany,  and  there  were  also  a  few 
wealthy  old  gentlemen  from  the  north  of  Italy, 
who  had  contributed  largely  with  their  purses  to 
the  foundation  of  the  newspaper. 

Cortis  opened  the  proceedings  by  stating  that 
all  might  be  now  considered  ready  for  its  publica- 
tion. They  had  a  subscribed  capital  of  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  lire.  All  was  ready  for 
printing  —  place,  machinery,  and  persons.     The  edi- 

250 


I 


THE  POLITICIAN  251 

tor  and  principal  toreign  contributors  were  engaged, 
and  the  Italian  staff  would  be  very  easily  found. 
Cortis  promised  his  own  most  careful  assistance, 
at  any  rate  until  the  opening  of  the  new  Chamber. 
The  question  to  settle  now  was  when  it  should  make 
its  appearance.  Cortis  was  determined,  as  his 
friends  knew,  to  take  the  opportunity  offered  by  a 
protest  from  his  constituents  of  making  a  speech 
the  next  day,  the  last  sitting  before  the  Easter  holi- 
days, and  then  to  resign.  He  intended  to  state 
his  political  creed  very  clearly,  appealing  from  the 
present  to  the  future  electorate.  As  he  would 
eventually  have  direction  of  the  newspaper,  he  con- 
sidered it  his  duty  to  communicate  to  his  friends 
the  ideas  that  he' intended  to  unfold  in  the  Chamber, 
although  they  might  not  be  new  to  some  of  them. 
If  the  idea  pleased  them,  if  the  speech  produced  an 
echo  in  the  country,  it  might,  perhaps,  be  opportune 
to  announce  the  new  paper  to  the  public  as  the 
result  of  this  feeling,  and  to  resign  not  so  late  that 
the  speech  should  have  been  forgotten,  nor  so  soon 
that  the  connection  between  the  two  facts  should 
appear  premeditated. 

At  this  point  Cortis  began  to  explain  briefly  what 
he  intended  to  say,  at  greater  length  in  the  Cham- 
ber. He  spoke  standing  with  his  back  against  the 
high  writing-desk  near  him,  gesticulating  and  fixing 
his  eyes  fiirst  on  one  and  then  another  of  his 
audience,  some  of  whom  listened  to  him  with  re- 
serve, others  lolled  on  a  sofa,  and  still  others  stood 
in  the  window  smoking. 


252  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  The  order  and  the  form  do  not  signify,"  said 
Cortis.     "  This  will  be  the  substance." 

The  honourable  deputy  who  was  smoking  in  the 
window  came  and  planted  himself  astride  a  chair 
in  front  of  the  speaker. 

"  Some  of  my  constituents,"  continued  Cortis, 
"  protest  against  my  expressing  clerical  opinions  in 
the  Chamber.  I  deny  that  these  persons  know  the 
colour  of  their  own  opinions,  and  I  very  much  doubt 
their  understanding  the  sense  of  their  own  words; 
but  still  I  mean  to  yield,  and  to  resign  my  seat, 
while  reserving  to  myself  the  right  of  making  a  few 
remarks  upon  the  occasion." 

"  Your  well-wishers,"  said  somebody,  "  will  not 
let  you  speak." 

"  Why  not  ?  In  any  case,  it  will  be  for  the  Cham-' 
ber  to  decide.  As  for  censure  and  blame,  that  is 
what  I  desire.  I  shall  say  that,  grateful  as  I  am 
towards  my  colleagues  for  the»  consideration  they 
have  shown  me,  I  feel  that  the  air  of  the  Chamber 
is  so  vitiated  that  I  can  leave  it  without  regret. 
And  then,  if  they  let  me  continue  speaking,  I  shall 
say  that  those  who  believe  that  the  disappearance, 
not  of  the  old  parties  only,  but  of  every  form  of 
parliamentary  government  is  at  hand,  may  come 
here  to  blow  off  the  steam  of  their  own  corrupt 
ideas.  I  shall  add  that,  on  leaving  the  Chamber, 
I  shall  give  clear  and  distinct  notice  of  my  resigna- 
tion to  the  new  electorate ;  and  I  certainly  shall  not 
go  and  preach  a  transformation  of  characters  and 
opinions  so  as  to  constitute  an  inflated  afid  lifeless 


THE  POLITICIAN  253 

majority.  I  have  frequently  heard  made  mention 
in  the  Chamber  of  a  new  party,  which  all  desire, 
and  to  which  nobody  will  belong.  I  shall  be  glad 
of  the  opportunity  of  letting  my  colleagues  know 
that  I  am  resigning  my  seat  in  order  to  go  in  search 
of  this  new  party,  and  that  I  shall  return,  if  pos- 
sible, followed  by  it. 

"  Hum !  hum !  "  remarked  some  sceptics. 

"  Gentlemen !  "  exclaimed  Cortis,  "  if  you  have  no 
faith,  why  do  you  join  in  the  undertaking?  " 

"  Go  on,  go  on !  "  cried  the  same  sceptics. 

"  I  shall  be  less  haughty  when  the  time  comes," 
said  Cortis ;  "  I  shall  study  my  words.  You  see  my 
speech  will  probably  be  much  interrupted,  and  I 
shall  have  to  fnake  many  turns  to  right  and  left, 
which  I  cannot  foresee  now,  but  the  kernel  of  it  is 
the  new  party.  I  shall  leave  the  Chamber  with  a 
prophecy  that  it  will  soon  be  filled  by  men  raised 
above  the  superstitions  and  ignorance  of  a  certain 
class  of  liberal  individualism.  They  will  take  pos- 
session of  this  class  which  regards  itself  as  the 
leader  of  humanity,  and  which  never  consents  to 
take  a  lower  place.  Now  it  will  have  to  work  for 
one  much  stronger,  much  more  powerful,  than  itself, 
who,  finding  the  w^y  clear,  will  come  to  claim  the 
leadership  of  the  world,  and  will  leave  to  those 
liberals  a  meadow  in  Arcadia,  perchance,  and  a  few 
sheep.  These  men,  with  the  future  before  them, 
will  fill  the  Chamber,  and,  unlike  the  rhetoricians 
and  mythologists.  they  will  be  convinced  that  in  the 
arduous  work  of  social  revivification  which  is  im- 


254  THE  POLITICIAN 

posed  upon  us  by  modern  forms  of  production,  the 
best  instrument  will  be  a  strong  monarchy,  free  and 
unfettered  by  any  Chamber,  but  with  a  profound  re- 
spect for  religious  sentiments.  These  men  will  be 
inspired  by  the  most  ardent  patriotism,  and  will 
never  make  dishonest  declarations  in  order  to  gain 
a  rood  of  territory  for  Italy." 

*'  There!  "  said  Cortis,  after  a  moment's  silence; 
"  I  shall  develop  these  ideas  more  or  less.  Now 
you  ought  all  to  give  me  your  opinion  frankly." 
■  No  one  spoke.  Cortis  went  and  threw  himself 
on  to  the  sofa,  where  he  waited,  gazing  at  the  ceil- 
ing. 

"  Bold,"  muttered  an  old  senator.     "  A  very  bold 

speech !  " 

"Of  course  it  is,"  said  Cortis,  with  a  gesture 
of  indifference ;  "  so  bold,  in  fact,  that  perhaps  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  make  it." 

The  deputy  who  had  been*  sitting  astride  his 
chair  rose  and  clapped  Cortis  on  the  back. 

"  I  don't  mind  that,"  he  said ;  "  I  don't  mind  the 
boldness  of  the  sound,  it  is  the  boldness  of  the  sense 
that  I  look  at." 

He  added  that,  as  far  as  he  could  judge  from  the 
brief  exposition  they  had  heard,  the  ideas  seemed 
to  him  more  radical  than  those  which  had  been  ac-' 
cepted  by  all  present  as  common  ground  for  the 
platform  of  the  paper.  There  had  been  much  talk 
about  social  reforms,  but  this  was  too  out-spoken 
an  advocacy  of  State  socialism,  and  it  might  alarm 
the  public.     He  would  not  discuss  the  principles. 


THE  POLITICIAN  255 

but  certainly  Italy  was,  as  yet,  insufficiently  pre- 
pared, and  these  ideas  had  not  been  sufficiently 
published  to  cause  people  to  flock  to  such  a  new 
standard.  The  honourable  deputy  did  not  approve 
of  speaking  disparagingly  of  a  transformation 
longed  for  by  so  many  people  w^ithin  and  without 
the  Chamber.  There  might  be  persons  who  were 
sceptical  on  this  point,  but  in  politics,  it  was  never 
wise  to  give  offense  unnecessarily. 

A  young  Sicilian,  recently  home  from  Berlin,  a 
fervent  believer  in  Christian  Socialism,  upheld  Cor- 
tis  warmly.  He  declared  his  speech  to  be  even  more 
for  a  Government  than  a  party  programme.  Re- 
serve and  caution  come  with  power.  If  they  in- 
tend to  start  a  movement  which  w^as  to  work  up- 
wards from  below,  they  must  be  honest  and  cour- 
ageous. Who  did  not  talk  of  social  reforms?  He 
wanted  to  know  how  their  great  work  could  be 
carried  out  if  not  by  a  strong  monarchy,  by  com- 
bination and  by  religious  feeling. 

The  depiity  replied ;  others  interfered  in  the  de- 
bate, recommending  more  prudent  measures.  Cor- 
tis  shuddered,  and  fidgeted  on  his  sofa,  wishing 
to  kep  silent,  but  he  w^as  not  master  that  evening 
of  his  overstrung  nerves,  and  suddenly  broke  out 
into  a  violent  abuse  of  the  nervous  and  timid,  at- 
tacking his  opponents  with  so  much  bitterness  and 
vehemence  as  to  amaze  rather  than  anger  them. 
When  he  had  finished,  no  one  spoke  for  a  time,  all 
looking  round  in  astonishment.  At  last  another 
senator  began  to  speak  at  some  length,  and  feeling 


256  THE  POLITICIAN 

his  way  with  great  caution,  admired  the  hardihood 
of  some,  praised  the  carefuhiess  of  others,  con- 
gratulated himself  upon  having  had  any  part  in 
a  discussion,  honourable  to  all  alike,  though  the 
ardor  of  their  convictions  and  their  desire  for  public 
welfare,  and  in  fact,  offered  a  truce  expressed  with 
considerable  vivacity.  After  praising  everybody, 
the  senator,  wishing  to  make  peace  all  round,  could 
only  give  a  slight  rap  to  those  who  had  spoken  most 
violently.  According  to  him,  the  disagreement  be- 
tween them  was  rather  apparent  than  real,  a  dis- 
agreement as  to  the  opportuneness  of  what  had  been 
said  by  Signor  Cortis,  rather  than  as  to  its  value; 
he  himself,  after  hearing  all  that  had  been  said, 
could  not  accept  all  at  once  the  entire  opinions  and 
judgments  of  either  one  side  or  the  other. 

Having  laid  down  this  axiom,  it  did  not  seem 
difficult  to  the  senator  to  hope  that  all  would  agree 
in  the  following  conclusion.  Signor  Cortis  had 
merely  spoken  for  himself,  and  the  newspaper  was 
in  nowise  bound  to  accept  that  speech  as  its  pro- 
gramme. He  had  spoken  boldly,  very  boldly. 
During  a  few  months  of  parliamentary  life,  Signor 
Cortis  had  distinguished  himself,  gaining  much  re- 
spect and  much  sympathy;  his  speech,  should  he 
succeed  in  making  it,  would  certainly  cause  great 
excitement  in  the  Chamber  and  out,  and  would  af- 
ford an  opportunity  for  studying  the  feelings  and 
disposition  of  the  public,  and  for  founding  the  pa- 
per on  firmer  ground,  either  ahead  of  or  behind 
the  views  therein  stated. 


THE  POLITICIAN  257 

Cortis  nodded  in  silent  but  contemptuous  agree- 
ment, while  the  others,  some  at  once,  others  later, 
some  aloud,  others,  in  a  low  voice,  approved.  There 
was  nothing  else  to  be  said.  The  white  neckties 
hurried  away.  Cortis  came  out  last.  He  took  the 
arm  of  the  senator  who  had  spoken,  a  man  of  great 
genius,  learning,  and  character,  and  dragged  him 
forcibly  towards  the  Via  Aracaeli,  although  he 
wished  to  go  towards  the  Roman  College. 

"  If  you  thought  me  mad,"  said  Cortis  quickly, 
"  you  might  have  told  me  so  sooner." 

The  other  protested,  but  Cortis  would  not  listen 
to  him,  and  declared  his  intention  of  sending  so- 
ciety, paper  and  all  to  the  deuce,  and  retiring  al- 
together from  public  life.  The  senator  tried  to 
calm  him,  reminding  him  that  as  he  had  asked  the 
opinion  of  his  friends,  he  must  not  be  hurt  if  that 
opinion  were  given  clearly.  Cortis  denied  having 
asked  any  one's  advice;  considering  himself  bound 
to  those  people,  he  did  not  wish  to  take  any  step 
without  telling  them,  but  he  had  considered  him-, 
self  sure  of  their  entire  approbation.  Were  not 
those  the  ideas  which  had  been  so  frequently  dis- 
cussed since  the  question  of  starting  the  paper  was 
first  mooted  ?  No,  no ;  Cortis  understood  them, 
they  were  jealous  of  him,  they  feared  that  he  would 
gain  too  much  influence,  too  much  authority.  The 
senator  did  not  fear  that,  but  the  others  did;  they 
were  envious,  hidden  enemies.  Had  not  the  sen- 
ator heard  them  ?     Had  he  not  seen  them  ? 

The  few  people  whom  they  met  turned  from  the 


258  THE  POLITICIAN 

tall,  well-made  man  who  was  talking  so  energet- 
ically, in  a  voice  which  shook  with  so  much  emo- 
tion, to  look  at  the  other,  tall,  thin,  and  very  plain 
in  his  old-fashioned  overcoat.  The  latter  tried  to 
stop  under  a  street-lamp  to  look  at  his  watch,  but 
Cortis  would  not  allow  it;  he  seized  him  more 
tightly  by  the  arm,  dragging  him  along  like  a 
naughty  boy.  At  last  they  reached  the  Capitol,  and 
there  the  poor  senator  stopped  short,  vowing  that 
he  would  not  be  pulled  a  step  farther. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  do  me  a  favor,"  he  said. 
*'  Tell  me  where  you  are  going?  " 

"I  must  walk;  I  must  tire  myself,"  said  Cortis. 
"  Did  you  not  tell  me  once  that  you  sometimes  go 
into  the  Colliseum  at  night  ?  " 

"Thank  you;  yes.  at  eight  o'clock.  But  it  is 
half-past  ten  now.  I  am  always  in  bed  at  this 
hour." 

"  Because  I  should  have  liked  to  go  there  with 
you.  There  are  few  people  I  respect  as  much  as 
you." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  the  senator,  with  a 
modest  smile  and  tired  voice.  "  I  salute  you,"  he 
continued,  making  himself  very  small  indeed,  as  if 
to  elude  the  grasp  of  his  terrible  companion.  Cor- 
tis shook  him  by  the  hand,  and  let  him  go  without 
a  word. 

He  walked  on  rapidly,  seeing  before  him  the 
Chamber,  the  members  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon 
him  and  upon  the  President ;  and  facing  him,  under 
the  left-hand  gallery,  the  silent  clock,  marking  as 


THE  POLITICIAN  259 

they  passed  the  moments  which  bore  away,  his  irre- 
vocable words,  the  hour  which  was  to  be  one  of  the 
most  solemn,  the  most  serious  of  his  life.  Now  the 
face  of  Elena,  her  look,  would  suddenly  break  in 
upon  the  other  visions;  but  it  disappeared  again, 
leaving  only  the  dark  hall,  those  friendly  or  hostile 
faces,  that  clock,  with  its  inexorable  hands.  And 
he  heard  the  voices;  he  could  hear  the  indifferent 
chattering  of  his  colleagues,  the  interruptions,  the 
contradictions,  the  abuse.  ^They  seemed  to  fall 
upon  him  like  slaps  on  his  face,  and  a  flood  of  in- 
vective rose  to  his  lips.  He  answered  with  abuse 
and  sarcasm  tO'  right  and  left.  He  was  alone 
against  them  ^11 ! 

Words  and  gestures  crowded  into  his  mind  with 
increasing  rapidity.  He  walked  on  with  his  teeth 
set  and  fists  clenched,  until  in  the  Piazza  dei  Fenili 
he  reeled  with  dizziness,  and  had  to  grasp  at  the 
parapet  overlooking  the  Forum,  waiting  breath- 
lessly till  it  passed.  When  the  huge  spectral  col- 
umns of  Castor  and  Pollux  ceased  whirling  round 
and  round  with  the  other  great  corpses  of  the 
Forum,  all  grey  in  the  misty  moonlight,  he  stood 
there  watching  almost  unconsciously  the  three  enor- 
mous pillars,  the  colossal  fragment  of  the  architrave 
curtained  in  the  white  clouds  that  veiled  the  Es- 
quiline. 

The  peace  of  dead  ages  entered  little  by  little 
into  his  soul.  He  then  walked  on  slowly,  thinking 
as  he  went,  and  astonished  at  such  a  novelty,  as  this 
sudden  attack  of  vertigo  which  not  even  his  pow- 


26o  THE  POLITICIAN 

erful  will  could  prevent.  He  must  be  very  calm, 
were  it  only  for  the  sake  of  the  morrow.  He  saw 
no  more  visions,  and  only  heard  his  own  footsteps 
in  the  solitude  around  him. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  beheld  the  Colliseum  rising 
black  and  huge  out  of  the  clouds.  The  little  gas- 
lamps  were  insufficient  to  penetrate  the  darkness 
outside  a  space  of  two  feet,  and  he  could  just  dis- 
tinguish, far  away  through  the  doorways,  the  open 
arena.  Cortis  hid  himself  gladly  in  the  darkness, 
for  he  seemed  thus  to  pass  from  time  into  eternity, 
and  to  gain  repose  there.  The  moon  shown  out, 
whitening  around  him  the  vast,  bare  vertibrse  of  the 
amphitheatre.  No  living  creature  was  visible. 
One  single  ray  of  light  from  San  Clemente  streamed 
through  the  arches  facing  him,  and  from  time  to 
time  the  sound  of  wheels  told  of  busy  life  in  the 
distance. 

Cortis  leaned  against  one  of  the  supports  of  the 
imperial  box,  in  the  shadow.  The  desolate  silence, 
the  vast,  black  and  grey  ruins  reminded  him  of  a 
spent  crater  in  the  moon,  surrounded  by  black 
mountains.  And  with  his  sad  dreams,  the  face 
and  voice  of  Elena  returned  to  him.  Was  she 
henceforth  to  live  in  another  planet?  Could  she 
never  be  his?  His  heart  began  to  beat  violently, 
and  he  clenched  his  hands  on  his  bosom,  fearing  to 
faint.  Good  God!  What  meant  this  utter  pros- 
tration of  mind?  What  was  this  wave  which,  ris- 
ing, seemed  to  cover  his  neck,  his  face,  and  which 
was  so  sweet,  so  bitter,  and  so  powerful?     What! 


THE  POLITICIAN  261 

he,  Cortis,  weeping!  He  turned  to  the  old  stone 
and  hid  his  face. 

A  few  minutes  later  a  crowd  of  people  filled  the 
arena,  stopping  at  the  entrance  with  exclamations 
of  — 

"  Oh !     Beautiful !  wonderful !  "  * 

Cortis  went  away. 

*  In  English  in  the  original. —  Note  by  the  Translator. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THEY  WERE  WORTHY  OF  THIS 

Elena  did  not  sleep  that  night.  Toward  dawn 
she  fell  into  a  brief  slumber,  and  dreamed  of  her 
bright  little  room  at  Passo  di  Rovese,  with  its  fresh 
breeze,  its  green  leaves,  and  its  roses ;  a  dream 
for  which  she  despised  herself.  She  got  up  at 
six  o'clock  and  went  to  hear  mass  at  the  Minerva 
church,  longing  to  pray  and  to  find  a  little  peace. 
She  could  not.  In  church  even  more  than  outside 
she  felt  that  her  faith  was  dumb.  And,  as  she  sat 
wearily  in  her  place,  she  envied  all  the  devout  peo- 
ple who  had-  so  many  things  to  ask  of  God,  who 
prayed  as  fervently  as  if  they  could  actually  see 
Him  on  the  high  altar  bending  down  to  listen 
to  them.  She,  on  the  other  hand,  saw  only  her 
sad,  useless  life,  and  she  desired  nothing;  there  was 
nothing  that  she  could  beg  from  God  without  sin. 
Would  He  perhaps,  in  His  mercy,  extinguish  her 
passion,  the  fire  that  burned  up  her  very  soul? 
Oh,  no!  her  torture  was  too  dear  to  her;  she  lived 
upon  it.  Rather  might  He  allow  her  to  die;  but 
then  what  would  become  of  her  in  the  next  world? 
What  good  had  she  ever  done  in  this  one?  Per- 
haps some  act  of  charity,  coldly  performed.  What 
religious  merit  had  even  her  one  virtue  of  w^ifely 

262 


THE  POLITICIAN  263 

fidelity?  None.  She  had  remained  faithful, 
partly  from  a  proud,  human  feeling  of  honour, 
partly  in  order  not  to  hurt  Cortis,  or  be  an  obstacle 
in  his  path.  What  had  been  the  fruit  of  this? 
Only  that  she  had  not  sinned.  What  had  she  done 
with  that  treasure  of  love  and  enthusiasm  which 
she  felt  in  her  heart?  She  had  buried  it.  No,  she 
must  not  beg  death  from  God.  but  life :  not  love, 
-not  gladness,  not  peace,  but  only  the  power  of  doing 
right  for  His  sake,  of  suiffering  with  resignation. 
This  thought  was  an  ecstasy  to  her.  A  sudden 
fire  burned  in  her  heart,  and  she  sent  up  this  prayer 
to  God :  she  told  Him  that  she  would  never  beg 
Him  to  grant  her  happiness,  not  even  in  the  fu- 
ture world;  that  she  accepted  and  blessed  His  will, 
even  though  it  should  be  to  make  her  to  suffer 
eternally.  She  found  repose  in  prayer,  and  a  gen- 
tle breath  of  that  peace  for  which  she  would  not 
ask.  Perhaps  it  was  weakness,  and  the  natural 
result .  of  so  violent  an  effort.  Then  her  prayer 
died  away  in  her  tired  heart ;  and  even  the  power  of 
thought  seemed  to  have  left  her;  there  remained 
only  a  sense  of  quiet. 

Then  this  idea  occurred  to  her,  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  hide  her  feelings  any  longer  from 
Cortis.  Notwithstanding  all  her  attempts  to  make 
him  forget  her  —  to  offend  him  —  she  had  not  suc- 
ceeded, and  she  saw  clearly  that  he  had  guessed 
her  secret ;  both  of  these  facts  gave  her  great 
pleasure  in  spite  of  herself!  Pretense  seemed  to 
become  a  useless  sacrifice.     Poor  Cortis !  what  com- 


264  THE  POLITICIAN 

fort  had  she  ever  given  him?  Whose  fault  was  it 
if  he  now  had  the  sorrow  of  hving  with  his  mother. 
The  latter  had  sent  her  a  Pindaric  letter  of  thanks, 
full  of  sickening  expressions  of  affection  and  of 
unseemly  allusions  to  ill-assorted  couples,  which 
had  brought  the  proud  blood  to  her  face.  Countess 
Tarquinia  could  not  endure  the  notion  of  her  liv- 
ing with  Cortis  and  was  constantly  talking  of  it, 
describing  her  sister-in-law  as  having  been,  when 
a  girl,  the  most  untrustworthy  and  most  selfish 
creature  in  the  world.  Life  with  her  would  be 
impossible!  Elena  was  full  of  remorse  at  having 
asked  Cortis  to  allow  such  a  person  even  to  live 
in  Rome.  She  must  beg  pardon  of  him  on  her 
knees,  and  see  if  a  remedy  could  be  found.  Mass 
was  over,  and  the  church  was  emptying  itself. 
Elena  kneeled  down  a  moment,  not  to  pray,  but 
to  think,  that  if  it  were  lawful  to  ask  such  a  thing 
of  God,  if  a  soul  that  believed  so  little,  and  was  so 
unworthy  as  hers,  might  hope  to  be  heard,  she 
would  beg  Him  to  provide  for  the  deliverance  of 
Cortis.  As  she  left  the  church,  she  remembered 
with  a  flash  of  irony,  that  she  should  have  prayed 
for  her  husband  too.  The  letter  she  had  received 
at  Cefalu  had  agitated  her  more  deeply,  more  in- 
describably, than  she  would  admit  to  herself;  but 
now  it  came  out  that  he  had  learned  of  the  post- 
ponement of  the  payment  after  that  letter  was  writ- 
ten, and  as  she  did  not  know  that  her  husband  was 
harassed   by   other   claims    equally   threatening,    it 


THE  POLITICIAN  265 

did  not  trouble  her  so  seriously.  She  had  gone  se- 
cretly the  previous  evening  to  the  Via  delle  Muratte ; 
but  the  baron  was  out;  and  she  could  only  leave  a 
letter  for  him. 

On  the  steps  of  the  hotel  she  met  Senator  Cle- 
nizzi,  and  he  was  so  surprised  to  see  her  at  that 
early  hour,  that  he  gazed  at  her  open-mouthed  with- 
out even  greeting  her. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  he  said  at  last,  "  is  it  you 
really?  Do  you  know  that  it  is  not  yet  half-past 
seven?" 

Elena  smiled. 

"  You  ought  to  be  pleased  to  meet  me,"  she  said. 

The  senator,,  quite  puzzled  by  her  manner, 
sighed,  and  suppressing  the  protestations  that  rose 
to  his  lips,  merely  answered :  "  To  be  sure." 
Then  he  told  her  of  a  very  strange  letter  he  had 
that  minute  received  from  Cortis.  Elena  started, 
and  looked  all  silent  entreaty.  Clenizzi  gave  her 
the  note,  which  was  as  follows :  — 

"  My  mother  arrived  in  Rome  this  morning  un- 
expectedly. I  do  not  know  if  I  shall  be  able  to 
go  to  the  Minerva  at  half-past  ten  as  I  had  intended. 
I  have  an  engagement  at  noon,  and  then  I  have  to 
speak  at  the  Chamber.  Please  tell  the  countess  this. 
If  I  cannot  come,  I  will  send  the  orders  of  admission 
for  the  sitting." 

"  Tell  me,"  asked  the  senator,  not  waiting  until 
Elena  had  finished  reading  the  note,  "  what  does 
he   mean?     I   always   understood    from   him,   and 


266  THE  POLITICIAN 

from  you,  and  from  everybody,  that  Cortis  was 
alone  in  the  world,  and  that  he  had  no  relations 
except  yourselves.     I  can't  make  it  out  at  all." 

Elena  made  no  reply.  Her  eyes  were  still  fixed 
on  the  letter,  and  she  seemed  deep  in  thought. 
Finally  she  handed  it  back  to  Clenizzi. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said. 

Clenizzi  saw  that  she  knew  more  than  he  did, 
and  that  she  did  not  wish  to  be  questioned.  He 
went  away,  promising  to  return  about  ten  o'clock 
to  put  himself  at  Countess  Tarquinia's  disposal. 
He  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps,  when  Elena 
suddenly  turned  and  ran  down  after  him. 

"  Go  to  Cortis,"  she  said.  "  See  my  aunt,  and 
when  you  come  back  here  tell  me  about  her." 

The  senator,  taken  aback,  opened  his  mouth  to 
protest,  but  Elena  had  already  left  him  and  fled  up- 
stairs. 

Countess  Tarquinia  did  not  awake  for  an  hour. 
When  she  heard  of  her  sister-in-law's  arrival,  she 
said  plainly  to  Elena,  that  while  she  freely  forgave 
her  brother's  wife,  she  certainly  would  not  see  her. 
She  was  sorry  on  Daniele's  account,  but  she  could 
not  yield  that  point.  If  Elena  would  be  guided  by 
her,  she  would  take  the  same  course. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  answered  Elena,  with  such  con- 
temptuous indignation  in  her  voice,  and  such  a 
frown  on  her  brow,  that  her  mother  hastily  cried : 
"  Don't  be  so  angry,  Elena,  for  pity's  sake."  And 
then,  after  expressing  an  exaggerated  humility,  an 
exaggerated  respect  for  the  talents  and  generous 


THE  POLITICIAN  267 

heart  of  her  daughter,  who  listened  with  distaste, 
she  poured  out  the  whole  story  of  the  past  misdeeds 
of  her  sister-in-law,  not  even  concealing  certain  an- 
cient quarrels  that  they  had  had  together. 

"  I  know  all  that,"  Elena  rejoined;  "  but  do  you 
wish  to  make  Daniele's  sacrifice  even  more  bitter  to 
him  than  it  is  already,  especially  when  you  know 
the  share  I  had  in  it?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  "with  that,"  returned 
Countess  Tarquinia,  "  nothing  at  all !  Did  you  ask 
my  advice  ?  and  did  Daniele  ever  say  a  word  to  me 
on  the  subject?  " 

Elena  would  ndt  answer. 

Clenizzi  reappeared  at  half-past  nine,  and  was 
received  by  Elen^  alone,  as  her  mother  had  not  yet 
finished  her  toilette.  He  had  been  to  Cortis's  house, 
but  had  given  as  his  real  reason  for  the  visit  a  wish 
to  hear  news  of  Di  Santa  Giulia's  affairs. 

"Well?"  asked  Elena. 

"  I  also  saw  the  signora,  your  aunt,"  said  the 
senator,  with  a  bow. 

"  Spare  me  these  civilities,"  said  Elena,  impa- 
tiently, beside  herself  with  anxiety.  "  There's  no 
time  for  them.     Tell  me  plainly  what  she  is  like." 

"  Plainly?  "  asked  the  senator.  "  Am  I  really  to 
speak  out?  Well,  then,  she  is  a  fright.  I  never 
saw  such  a  woman." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  her." 

"In  appearance,  she  is  tall,  lean,  and  yellow; 
nothing  but  skin  and  bone.  In  my  country  we 
should  say  that  she  is  only  fit  to  be  sent  to  Plazzolo 


268  THE  POLITICIAN 

to  make  buttons  of.  And  her  dress,  her  manner, 
her  whole  appearance!  Cortis  introduced  me  to 
her  with  a  voice  and  look  that  paralyzed  my  tongue, 
but  she  immediately  began  to  chatter  to  such  an 
extent  that  I  could  not  bear  it  more  than  five  min- 
utes.    I  ran  away." 

The  senator  paused  a  moment,  and  then  began 
again  in  a  grave  voice, — 

"  But  do  you  know  what  struck  me  above  all  ?  " 

Elena  grew  paler. 

"  Cortis !  "  he  said.  "  He  must  be  ill.  One  can 
see  that.  His  face  is  quite  changed.  I  am  afraid 
of  something  serious." 

She  watched  him,  speechless,  with  her  eyes  so 
wide,  so  fixed,  so  full  of  sudden  fear,  that  the  sen- 
ator hastened  to  soften  as  best  he  might,  the  effect 
of  his  words,  and  the  sepulchral  voice  in  which 
they  had  been  uttered.  At  this  moment  Countess 
Tarquinia  entered,  beautifully  dressed,  and  after  a 
quick  glance  at  each  of  them,  she  asked  Glenizzi  if 
there  were  any  news  of  her  son-in-law.  Clenizzi 
thoughtlessly  answered  that  Di  Santa  Giulia  was 
expected  at  Cortis's  house  at  twelve  o'clock. 

At  Cortis's  house?  What  new  difficulty  had 
arisen  ?  The  senator  was  a  little  embarrassed.  He 
answered  that  they  had  to  settle  some  final  ar- 
rangements with  the  lawyer,  some  formalities  rela- 
tive to  the  promised  delay.  Elena  did  not  speak, 
and  Covmtess  Tarquinia  was  only  too  glad  to  ac- 
cept any  explanations  which  would  leave  her  in 
peace,  at  any  rate  for  that  day.     When  all  was  said 


THE  POLITICIAN  269 

and  done,  Elena  had  left  Cefalii  with  the  consent 
of  her  husband,  and  he  had  been  informed  of  the 
day  and  hour  at  which  she  would  arrive  in  Rome. 
They  had  sent  to  inquire  for  him  at  the  Senate  and 
at  home,  and  written  to  him  in  the  politest  manner 
possible ;  what  more  could  he  want  ? 

The  countee  inquired  of  Clenizzi  whether  he 
had  arranged  a  good  programme  of  amusements 
for  the  day.  The  only  two  things  upon  which  she 
insisted  were  mass  at  St.  Peter's,  and  the  drive  to 
Villa  Borghese.  The  senator  proposed  a  visit  to 
the  Tiberine  Museum,  recently  opened.  Countess 
Tarquinia  turned  up  her  nose.  Museums!  She 
had  seen  so  many' of  them.  What  was  there  to  see 
in  this  Tiberine  Museum!  Clenizzi  humbly  ac- 
knowledged that  he  had  never  been  in  it.  The 
countess  made  up  her  mind  to  go,  and  they  were 
on  the  point  of  starting,  when  Clenizzi  remembered 
that  Cortis  had  said  that  he  would  do  his  utmost 
to  come  to  the  Minerva  between  half-past  ten  and 
eleven.  Countess  Tarquinia  was  terrified  at  the 
chance  of  having  to  meet  her  sister-in-law,  and  said 
hastily  that,  as  they  were  so  uncertain  of  his  com- 
ing, it  was  not  worth  while  waiting  for  him.  They 
could  leave  a  note  for  him  with  the  porter.  She 
wrote  this  herself,  and  told  Cortis  that  he  would 
find  her  and  her  daughter  at  the  Tiberine  Museum, 
about  eleven  o'clock. 

As  the  countess  was  entering  one  of  the  chapels 
in  St.  Peter's,  Elena  beckoned  to  Clenizzi,  and 
whispered  hurriedly  to  him, — 


270 


THE  POLITICIAN 


"What  is.  the  matter  now  with  my  husband? 
Why  is  he  going  to  Cortis?  " 

"  Nothing  that  I  know,"  answered  the  senator ; 
"  beyond  what  I  have  told  you." 

The  countess  turned  to  address  a  remark  to  her 
daughter,  and  their  conversation  came  to  an  end. 

Towards  eleven  o'clock  her  carriage  arrived  at 
the  Tiberine  Museum,  from  the  Borgo  S.  Spirito, 
and  Cortis  drove  up  at  the  same  moment  from  the 
iron  bridge. 

"  This  is  what  we  will  do,"  said  the  countess, 
as  soon  as  she  saw  her  nephew.  "  I  don't  care 
about  the  museum,  no  more  does  the  senator.  He 
shall  come  with  me  to  do  two  or  three  things ;  and 
you,  Elena,  go  to  the  museum  with  Daniele,  and 
let  him  take  you  back  to  the  hotel.     Will  you?  " 

"  I  shall  be  proud !  "  answered  the  senator,  bow- 
ing, and  raiding  his  outspread  hands. 

Elena  said  not  a  word,  and  she  neither  blushed 
or  paled.  Her  heaving  bosom  alone  betrayed  her 
trouble.  Before  getting  out  of  the  carriage,  the 
countess  whispered  to  her  to  tell  Cortis  of  her  firm 
intention  not  to  receive  her  sister-in-law.  Elena 
shook  her  head  resolutely. 

"  You  must  tell  him  yourself,"  she  said. 

Countess  Tarquinia  bit  the  fan  that  she  held  in 
her  hand  in  her  vexation,  and  then,  scarcely  notic- 
ing her  nephew,  she  said  to  the  coachman, — 

"  Via  Condotti." 

Cortis  did  not  understand  the  situation  at  all, 
and  looked  at  Elena  for  an  explanation. 


THE  POLITICIAN  271 

"  Mamma  does  not  care  about  museums,"  she 
said,  in  a  trembling  voice,  and  forcing  her  Hps  into 
a  smile,  which  accorded  ill  with  the  sad  look  in  her 
eyes.     "  Will  you  accompany  me?  " 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Cortis. 

He  bought  the  tickets,  and,  offering  her  his  arm, 
they  entered  the  deserted  garden,  which  tries  to 
bloom  in  the  solitudes  of  Saint'  Onofrio. 

The  far-away  noises  of  Rome  died  in  the  silence. 
The  great  palms  facing  the  museum  in  oriental 
gravity;  the  straight,  thick  rows  of  fir  trees  over- 
shadowing the  Gianicolo  in  black  solemnity,  seemed 
to  cast  a  melancholy  gloom  over  the  whole  scene. 

"  I  have  never  been  here  before  either,"  said  Cor- 
tis.    "  I  daresay  it  is  interesting." 

His  voice  trembled  a  little  too.  Elena  followed 
him,  completely  overcome.  At  the  door  of  the 
museum  he  would  have  turned  to  the  right  to  enter 
but  that  frail  arm  within  his  suddenly  stiffened 
itself  and  pushed  him  straight  on. 

"  Forgive  me,  forgive  me,"  sobbed  Elena,  in  a 
choking  voice. 

Cortis  felt  the  vertigo  of  the  preceding  evening 
coming  over  him  again,  but  this  time  he  conquered 
it  by  sheer  strength  of  will,  and,  holding  Elena's 
arm  closely,  he  walked  rapidly  with  her  down  a 
grassy  path  leading  to  the  left  among  the  shrub- 
bery.    Then  he  slackened  his  pace. 

"  No,  no,  Elena,"  he  said  tenderly,  caressing  her 
hand  and  raising  it  to  his  lips.  "  What  have  I  to 
forgive,  dear?     I  have  nothing." 


272  THE  POLITICIAN 

She  tried  to  stop  her  tears  with  her  handkerchief, 
but  a  convulsive  sob  shook  her  whole  frame. 

"  No,  no,  Elena  —  no,  dear,"  repeated  Cortis, 
whose  gentle  voice  only  seemed  to  increase  her  emo- 
tion. 

She  could  only  breathe  with  difficulty,  as  though 
speaking  to  herself:     "Impossible,  impossible!" 

Little  by  little  she  became  quieter,  and  raised  her 
face  to  her  cousin. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me?  "  she  asked. 

"What?"  answered  Mortis,  stopping  short  and 
seizing  both  her  hands.  "  Your  silence  ?  your  cold- 
ness ?  but  if  — " 

Elena  feared  that  he  might  finish  the  sentence, 
and  interrupted  him, — 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  said,  "  all  —  even  that.  I  did  it 
for  your  sake,  Daniele,  that  you  might  forget  me 
for  ever  and  ever !  " 

"  I  can  do  everything  but  that,"  answered  Cor- 
tis, encircling  her  with  his  arm.  "  I  can  love  and 
suffer  as  no  one  else  in  the  world  can,  and  I  can 
die."  She  pressed  his  hand  affectionately,  as  if  to 
prevent  him  drawing  it  away.  "  Yes,  indeed,  and 
I  would  rather  die  than  harm  you." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  do  you  think  I  do  not  know 
that?  Do  you  think  I  ever  doubted  it?  I  am  not 
afraid  of  that;  what  I  dread  is  being  the  cause  of 
misfortune  to  you." 

"  I  can  die,"  repeated  Cortis,  "  but  forget,  never. 
How  should  you  be  a  misfortune  to  me,  Elena?  If 
you  mean  in  my  public  duties,  you  know  that  there 


THE  POLITICIAN  273 

is  no  private  feeling,  however  powerful,  which 
should  stand  before  — " 

"  I  know  that,"  broke  in  Elena ;  "  but  I  fancied, 
and  I  wrote  it  to  you,  that  you  wanted  my  entire 
love,  a  different  love,"  she  meant  to  say,  but  the 
•words  died  on  her  lips. 

"  You  wrote  that  to  me,  and  I  answered  you." 

Cortis  felt  that  she  trembled  all  over.  Near 
where  they  stood  were  a  moss-grown  column  and 
some  old  semicircular  stone  steps  on  the  slope  of 
the  hill,  half-hidden  in  the  grass.  Cortis  made  his 
companion  sit  down. 

"  Oh,  Daniele,"  she  said,  "  what  most  requires 
forgiveness  is  the  letter  about  your  mother.  I 
was  so  thoughtless,  so  stupid !  And  now,  through 
my  fault  — "         / 

Cortis  would  not  let  her  finish. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  not  in  the  least  through  your 
fault.  My  mother  is  now  with  me  in  Rome  be- 
cause, of  my  own  free  will,  I  suggested  it.  You 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Perhaps  my  repug- 
nance to  living  with  her  was  mere  selfishness.  I 
said  to  myself :  Any  sacrifice  save  this  one.  And 
I  was  wrong.  Nothing  is  a  sacrifice  when  it  is 
done  willingly.  Besides,  I  have  never  told  her  for 
a  minute  that  I  would  keep  her  with  me  always.  I 
told  her  to  come  for  the  present.  I  am  trying  the 
experiment,  before  leaving  her  quite  alone,  with 
perfect  freedom.     Indeed,  you  have  done  me  good." 

Elena  seized  his  hand  and  attempted  to  kiss  it. 

"Oh!"    said   Cortis,    drawing   it   away.     Then, 


274  THE  POLITICIAN 

with  a  sudden  rush  of  feeHng  he  seized  both  her 
hands,  raising  them  slowly,  as  though  they  were 
heavy.     "  I  am  he,"  he  murmured,  "  who  can  — " 

He  bent  forward  hastily,  and  kissed  her  forehead. 
She  trembled  violently.  She  had  neither  strength 
nor  will  left,  and  was  as  one  who  neither  sees  nor 
hears.  Cortis  himself  could  not  speak  for  some 
moments. 

"  Enough,"  he  said;  "  we  were  both  of  us  worthy 
of  this." 

They  seated  themselves  near  together. 

Elena  first  broke  the  silence. 

"  Do  you  go  to  church  ?  "  she  asked  him.  "  Do 
you  pray?  " 

Cortis  smiled,  and  inquired  why  she  asked  such 
a  question. 

"  Because  I  should  like  to  be  able  to  pray  as  I 
once  could,  and  I  cannot.  I  have  no  faith,  no  faith, 
no  faith!" 

She  pronounced  these  words  in  a  low  hurried 
voice,  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  rocking 
herself  to  and  fro. 

"  It  is  a  misfortune,"  he  said ;  "  I  seldom  go  to 
church.  I  think  more  about  my  country  than  my 
soul,  but  in  my  heart  I  feel  God  deeply  and  I  trust 
that  He  is  not  angry  with  me." 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Elena,  "  I  should  like  to 
say  so  many  things  to  you  about  my  soul,  so  many 
strange  things.  But  now  I  cannot  find  the  words. 
And  besides,"  she  added,  suddenly  rising,  "  I  have 
made  you  waste  too  much  time.     You  ought  to 


THE  POLITICIAN  275 

go."  She  clasped  her  hands  with  a  sudden  move- 
ment, and  said,  in  a  low  voice :  "  Why  is  my  hus- 
band coming  to  see  you?  " 

"How  did  you  know  that?"  exclaimed  Cortis. 
"  Ah,  Clenizzi !  "  he  added  immediately.  "  It  is 
nothing  of  importance.  Merely  to  settle  once  for 
all  how  these  payments  are  to  be  met,  and  to  put 
it  all  in  writing.  If  your  uncle  were  here  he  would 
do  it.  As  it  is,  I  do  it  and  then  tell  him  what  has 
been  done.  It  is  all  perfectly  simple.  Why  did 
you  think  it  w^as  serious  ?  " 

He  seemed  almost  angry  with  her,  and  Elena  did 
not  insist. 

"  There  is  ai^other  thing,"  she  said;  "  you  are  not 
well.     You  ought  to  take  care  of  yourself." 

Cortis  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I?  " 

Elena  did  not  try  to  contradict  him,  for  she  saw 
it  would  be  useless ;  but  she  exclaimed.  Oh !  in  a 
submissive  voice  which  contained  so  much  passion 
and  so  much  entreaty,  that  Cortis  felt  it  in  his 
heart  and  made  no  reply.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
knew  that  he  had  the  fever ;  his  head  felt  like 
lead,  but  he  bore  the  pain  with  his  usual  pluck, 
helped  by  his  highly-strung  organism.  And  be- 
sides, the  very  knowledge  that  the  heart  he  loved 
had  opened  to  him  to-day  for  the  first  time,  and 
that  he  had  received  a  full  and  complete  answer  to 
his  questions,  made  a  new  life  dawn  for  him,  and 
must  do  him  good. 

The  silence  of  the  woods  around  affected  him. 


276  THE  POLITICIAN 

White  and  yellow  flowers  nodded  to  the  southern 
breeze  from  between  the  old  stone  steps,  a  night- 
ingale sang  in  the  thickets  in  the  garden,  no  hu- 
man voice  or  step  broke  the  silence. 

Cortis  would  not  have  moved,  but  it  was  nearly 
noon,  and  he  must  go.  They  took  the  first  path, 
not  knowing  which  led  the  other.  It  was  only  in 
passing  the  wide-spreading  roots  and  the  curious 
foliage  of  a  foreign  tree  which  seemed  to  have 
strayed  into  the  middle  of  the  garden,  that  Cortis 
noticed  that  they  had  taken  a  wrong  turning,  and 
told  Elena. 

"  To-day  I  have  to  speak  at  the  Chamber,"  he 
said  presently,  "  and  you  are  to  come  and  hear  me. 
I  will  send  the  passes  to  your  hotel." 

Elena  leaned  on  his  arm.  They  entered  the 
museum  for  a  minute,  because  they  thought  it  was 
right  and  without  any  question,  feeling,  as  they 
did  so,  a  keen  pleasure  in  the  silent  understanding 
that  existed  between  them.  They  only  looked  at  a 
little  bust  of  a  young  girl,  a  poor  little  head  lean- 
ing on  a  shoulder,  white,  with  gentle  features,  some- 
what worn  by  the  lapse  of  so  many  centuries,  that 
the  river  had  so  ceaselessly  flowed  over  them.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  artist  had  worked  at  it  with  a 
presentiment  of  the  sad  fate  awaiting  it,  and  had 
produced  therefore  that  effect  of  resignation  and 
profound  sorrow,  which  now,  in  the  calmness  of 
the  quiet  hall,  seemed  to  say  that  she  had  suffered 
too  much,  and  could  never  be  consoled. 

On   the   way    from   the   museum   to   the   hotel, 


THE  POLITICIAN  2']^ 

neither  Elena  nor  Cortis  spoke.  Only  when  they 
arrived  the  latter  said, — 

"If  your  mother  does  not  come  to  the  Chamber, 
you  will  come  all  the  same  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  large,  passionate  eyes, 
pressed  his  hand,  and  whispered, — 

"  Yes." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  SIGNORA's  SECRET 

BogHetti,  the  lawyer,  reached  Cortis's  house  at 
a  quarter  past  twelve,  and  was  shown  by  the  serv- 
ant into  the  study,  with  the  request  that  he  would 
wait  a  few  minutes,  as  his  master  would  not  be 
long.  Five  minutes  later  Signora  Cortis  entered 
timidly.  She  had  a  sweet  smile  upon  her  lips,  and 
was  quite  surprised  at  the  delay  of  the  deputy,  her 
son,  and  so  very  sorry  that  the  gentleman  should 
be  kept  waiting. 

The  gentleman  in  question,  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  the  appearance  of  this  person,  who  looked 
and  spoke  like  a  "  quondam  "  ballet-dancer,  pro- 
tested that  it  did  not  signify. 

"  Pray  sit  down,"  said  the  signora.  "  If  you  will 
allow  me  — " 

She  took  a  chair  also,  so  as  not  to  leave  him 
alone.  Boglietti,  not  at  all  caring  for  this  unex- 
pected conversation,  begged  her  not  to  trouble  her- 
self, but  as  he  always  met  that  same  sickly  smile, 
he  finally  gave  it  up. 

"  The  deputy,  my  son,"  continued  the  signora, 
"  is  so  occupied.     You  must  forgive  him." 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  lawyer,  "  of  course,  I  know 

278 


THE  POLITICIAN  279 

that.  But,"  he  added,  "  I  must  congratulate  you, 
signora,  now  that  I  know  that  you  are  his  mother." 

The  signora  clasped  her  hands,  and  raised  her 
eyes  to  heaven. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  she  said,  "  a  happy  mother.  No 
one  knows  how  happy." 

The  lawyer  feared  lest  she  should  make  her  hap- 
piness clear  to  him,  and,  as  soon  as  he  could  with- 
out rudeness,  he  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  I  expected,"  he  said,  "  to  meet  another  person 
here,  about  whom  your  son  wrote-  to  me  this  morn- 
ing.    I  do  not  know  if  he  has  already  been  here?  " 

"  May  I  know  who  it  is  ?  "  murmured  Signora 
Cortis,  leaning  forward,  and  expressing  in  move- 
ment and  face  the  most  eager  curiosity. 

"  Some  one  whom,  perhaps,  you  may  know  — 
Senator  Di  Santa  Giulia." 

She  jumped  from  her  seat. 

"The  senator?"  she  cried,  "Baron  Carmine? 
Here?" 

"  But  —  I  believe  so,"  answered  the  other,  sur- 
prised. ; 

The  signora  flew  out  of  the  room,  to  return  at 
once. 

"  He  has  not  come,"  she  said ;  "  and  now  tell 
me,  I  beseech  you,  why  he  is  coming  here?  Oh, 
sir,"  she  added,  opening  her  arms  tragically  and 
shaking  her  head,  as  the  lawyer  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment, "  it  is  a  woman,  a  mother,  the  mother  of  Cor- 
tis the  deputy,  who  asks  you  this!  " 

"  Bless   my  heart,   madam,"   he   replied,    "  don't 


28o  THE  POLITICIAN 

be  so  uneasy.  There  is  no  question  of  a  duel ;  their 
business  is  peaceful." 

"Peaceful!"  exclaimed  the  signora,  with  the- 
atrical irony,  "  Surely  you  know  that  between  cer- 
tain people  there  can  be  no  peace.  Indeed,"  here 
the  signora  wagged  a  prophetic  finger,  "  indeed ! 
there  can  be  no  peace !  " 

She  was  silent,  with  her  finger  still  uplifted,  and 
her  head  turned  towards  the  door  listening. 

"  The  bell  rang,"  said  Boglietti.  "  It  may  be 
the  senator." 

She  seized  his  arm. 

"  Signor,"  she  said,  "  I  beseech  you !  Remem- 
ber that  you  have  not  seen  me  or  spoken  to  me !  " 

She  disappeared,  and  ^he  lawyer  was  still  gap- 
ing in  open-mouthed  astonishment  at  the  door 
which  had  shut  behind  her,  when,  from  the  other 
side  of  the  room,  he  heard  the  loud  voice  of  Di 
Santa  Giulia  saying: 

"  Good  morning." 

The  baron  had  grown  thinner  and  paler,  and  the 
expression  of  mistrust  and  discontent  in  his  face 
had  deepened ;  but  his  loud  voice,  his  upright  figure, 
and  his  arrogant  manner  had  not  changed. 

He  seated  himself  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  nurs- 
ing his  knees,  and  leaning  his  head  back  among  the 
cushions. 

"  It  is  a  real  pleasure,"  he  said,  "  to  find  myself 
with  you,  my  charming  attorney!  You  write  a 
good  letter,  you  know ;  your  style  is  perfect.  Your 
letters  are  most  delightfully  worded!     I  can't  say 


THE  POLITICIAN  281 

quite  so  much  for  their  contents,  which  sometimes 
seem  cavaher,  but  — " 

The  lawyer,  red  as  a  poppy,  tried  to  protest.  The 
other  was  not  in  the  least  put  out,  and  signed  to 
him  with  his  hand  to  keep  quiet. 

"  Gently,  gently.  Don't  excite  yourself.  How 
you  northern  people  take  things.  You  are  Pied- 
montese,  aren't  you?  I  said  they  seem,  and  there 
is  a  great  difference  between  they  seem  and  they 
are.  For  instance,  the  face  of  Senator  Di  Santa 
Giulia  seems  like  the  face  of  a  monster,  but  in 
reality  he  is  the  mildest  creature  in  the  world.  Of 
course  law  is  your  business.  Who  would  ever 
think  of  confounding  an  attorney  with  a  gentle- 
man? There' is  no  question  of  law  there.  And 
now,  tell  me  what  you  want  with  me,  you  and  my 
reverend  cousin.  Father  Daniele  of  the  Society  of 
the  Jesuits.  Did  you  not  write  to  me  that  you 
wanted  the  money  on  the  31st  of  March.  Is  to- 
day the  31st  of  March?" 

The  lawyer  made  no  reply.  He  stroked  his  whis- 
kers and  looked  the  other  way. 

"Well?  "asked  the  other. 

"Are  you  speaking  to  me?"  asked  Boglietti. 
"  Who  invited  you  to  come  here?  " 

"  Cortis." 

"  Well  then,  please  speak  to  Signor  Cortis." 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  the  latter,  entering  at  this 
moment.     "  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"What  for,  what  for?"  asked  the  senator.  "I 
have  been   having  a  most   agreeable  conversation 


282  THE  POLITICIAN 

with  this  pleasant  gentleman.  I  may  as  well  go  on 
with  what  I  was  saying.  I  was  just  asking  him 
what  the  devil  you  two  want  with  me  here?  " 

"  We  two  have  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  answered 
Cortis.     "  It  was  I  who  begged  you  to  come  here." 

"  Very  good,"  answered  the  other;  "  and  did  you 
invite  this  gentleman  also  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  Well  then,  I  suppose  you  wish  to  speak  to  me 
about  something  which  is  some  of  your  business, 
or  about  which  you  have,  at  least,  some  right  to 
speak  to  me." 

Cortis's  eyes  sparkled  for  a  moment  with  anger, 
but  the  light  soon  died  out. 

"  Because,"  continued  the  other,  raising  himself 
and  his  voice,  "  if  it  were  about  — " 

"  I  begged  you  to  come  here  in  order  that  I  might 
speak  to  you,"  broke  in  Cortis;  "when  I  have 
spoken  I  will  listen  to  you." 

"Let  us  hear  what  you've  got  to  say!"  said 
the  baron,  throwing  himslf  back  on  the  sofa. 
"May  I  smoke?" 

He  pulled  out  a  cigar  and  lighted  it  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer. 

Cortis,  seated  at  his  writing-table,  began  to  speak, 
pressing  his  head  and  his  temples  with  both  hands. 
The  lawyer  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  him,  and  Di 
Santa  Giulia  smoked  and  stared  at  the  ceiling. 

"  Both  time  and  will  fail  me,"  said  Cortis,  "  to 
waste  unnecessary  words.  I  have  a  proposal  to 
make." 


THE  POLITICIAN  283 

"  To  whom?  "  asked  the  baron. 

"  To  both  of  you.  Someone,  who  does  not  wish 
his  name  mentioned,  is  wilHng,  upon  certain  con- 
ditions, to  take  upon  himself  the  debt  of  Baron  Di 
Santa  GiuHa  to  — " 

"  Don't  bother  me  any  more !  "  cried  the  senator. 
"  This  unknown  person  is  my  mother-in-law ;  may 
the  devil  fly  away  with  her !  Don't  bother  me  any 
more!  " 

He  flung  his  cigar  on  the  floor  in  a  passion. 

"  I  will  look  after  my  own  debts!  "  he  said. 

Cortis  kept  his  patience  wonderfully  that  day. 

"  Your  mother-in-law  has  nothing  to  do  with  it," 
he  said. 

"  Well,  then,^'  said  the  baron,  "  though  it  is 
hardly  likely,  it  can  only  be  that  old  fellow  at  — " 

"  Hold  your  tongue,"  exclaimed  Cortis,  bringing 
his  fist  down  violently  on  the  writing-table. 

"  I  would  have  you  know,"  said  the  baron,  in  his 
strident  voice,  and  leaning  over  toward  Cortis, 
"  I  would  have  you  know,  and  I  don't  care  a  rush 
if  this  gentleman  knows  it  too,  that  if  I  have  debts, 
many  debts,  I  am  still  ten,  a  hundred,  a  thousand 
times  more  noble  than  your  most  noble  Signori 
Carre,  and  your  most  highly  virtuous  aunt,  and 
that  most  highly-born  gentleman,  her  brother-in- 
law.  They  gave  me  willingly  a  young  girl  worth 
a  great  deal  more  than  they  w^ere,  and  more  than 
I  am,  and  now  they  fight  tooth  and  nail  to  defend 
a  paltry  sum  of  money;  refusing  it  to  me  when  it 
would  have  been  of  real  use,  and  persuading  her 


284  THE  POLITICIAN 

to  lie,  I  believe,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  They 
made  a  fool  of  me,  and  now  that  they  are  afraid 
for  their  good  name,  and  their  reputation  as  gen- 
erous and  honest  people,  they  come  and  offer  it  to 
me!" 

"Who  is  offering  you  anything?"  said  Cortis. 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  other,  without  heed- 
ing him,  "  now  I  say.  No !  " 

Cortis  made  a  gesture  of  weariness  and  fatigue, 
and  replied,  in  a  low  voice, — 

"  It  is  quite  unnecessary.  Nobody  from  Casa 
Carre  offers  you  anything." 

The  baron  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Who 
then  — " 

"  Do  not  try  to  discover.  I  shall  not  name  the 
person,  who  is  neither  a  friend  nor  a  relation  of 
yours." 

Cortis  spoke  very  low,  in  a  tired  voice,  closing 
his  eyes  frequently,  and  passing  his  hand  over  his 
forehead. 

"  And  pray  why,"  asked  the  baron,  "  is  this  per- 
son so  anxious  to  pay  my  debts?  " 

"  The  reason  is  no  business  of  yours.  But  there 
is  one  condition.  The  President  of  the  Senate  has 
already  called  upon  you  once  to  resign  your  posi- 
tion as  senator  of  the  Kingdom.  That  is  the  con- 
dition." 

The  baron  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  So,"    he   said,    with   an   ironical   smile,    "  you 


THE  POLITICIAN  285 

would  wish  me  to  believe  that  you  are  charged  by 
the  government?" 

"  I  have  not  mentioned  the  government." 

"  The  government,  dear  Signor  Cortis,"  replied 
the  baron,  "  is  under  a  sacred  obligation  to  do  this 
for  me,  and  much  more  handsomely  too;  and  I 
may  as  well  add,  that  even  if  you  do  not  consider 
me  worthy  to  continue  to  hold  my  seat  in  the  Sen- 
ate, I  shall  resign  it  only  of  my  own  free  will. 
Your  condition  is  an  outrage!  But  in  any  case, 
before  coming  to  a  decision,  I  wish  you  to  declare  to 
me  plainly  whether  it  is  the  government  that  makes 
me  this  offer  or  not." 

"  I  may  tell  the  lawyer  only,"  answered  Cortis, 
"  the  name  of  this  new  debtor.  It  will  be  then  for 
him  to  say  whether  he  will  accept  him  or  not.  I 
have  no  declarations  to  make  to  anyone  else." 

"  So  be  it,"  exclaimed  the  senator,  rising. 
"  Then  there's  an  end  of  your  declarations,  condi- 
tions, anonymous  persons,  and  everything  else.  I 
am  here,  my  dear  cousin,  and  dear  Signor  Boglietti. 
You  have  written  me  a  letter  to  which  I  will  send  an 
answer  of  one  sort  or  another  before  the  31st  of 
March.     Now,  good  day  to  you  both." 

"  One  moment,"  said  Cortis,  raising  his  hand 
towards  him.  "  I  have  power  to  take  away  the 
condition." 

"  What's  that  to  me  ?  "  retorted  the  senator. 

Cortis  rose. 

"  Stop !  "  he  cried. 


286  THE  POLITICIAN 

The  baron  made  a  gesture  of  contempt,  opened 
.the  door,  placed  his  hat  on  his  head,  and  said,  with- 
out turning  round, — 

"Good-day!" 

"  The  beast !  "  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  as  he  heard 
him  going  down-stairs. 

Cortis  had  re-seated  himself,  and  was  leaning  his 
head  in  his  hands. 

"  I  am  the  person,"  he  said. 

The  lawyer  looked  at  him  without  understanding 
him. 

"  I  will  pay,"  continued  Cortis.  "  Don't  you  un- 
derstand? I  am  a  friend  of  Count  Carre.  Were 
he  here,  and  could  he  be  informed  of  everything, 
he  would  pay.  Now  there  are  special  reasons  why 
the  matter  should  be  hurried  on.  Therefore,  if 
you  have  no  objection,  let  your  client  put  me  in 
tlie  place  of  Di  Santa  Giulia,  and  I  will  undertake 
to  pay  the  entire  sum  in  a  fortnight." 

"  Well !  well !  "  exclaimed  Boglietti. 

"  And  will  you  kindly  inform  the  baron,  at  once, 
that  he  is  absolved  from  any  liability  towards  the 
bank?     Nothing  more." 

"  But  do  you  know  that  what  you  are  doing  is 
splendid?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  answered  Cortis.  "  As  I 
have  already  told  you,  I  am  simply  '  negotiorum 
gestor.'     Will  you  have  something  to  drink?" 

No,  the  lawyer  would  not  drink  at  that  hour. 
Cortis  rang  and  ordered  a  cup  of  strong  coffee  and 
some  brandy. 


THE  POLITICIAN  287 

"  We  ought  to  put  this  into  writing,"  said  he. 

The  lawyer  answered  that  there  was  no  hurry. 
He  would  prepare  the  deed  at  his  leisure,  and  Cor- 
tis  should  sign  it  next  day.  But  Cortis  insisted 
that  some  preliminary  step  should  be  taken  at  once, 
and  Boglietti  left  the  room,  saying  that  he  must,  in 
that  case,  fetch  some  papers  from  his  office.  He 
would  be  back  in  a  few  minutes. 

The  door  facing  the  writing-table  opened  very, 
very  slowly,  and  Cortis's  mother  peeped  into  the 
room  to  see  if  the  lawyer  were  really  gone.  Then 
she  burst  in. 

*'  Daniele,  don't,"  she  groaned,  in  a  muffled  voice, 
clasping  her  hands.     "  Don't  do  this !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

Signora  Cortis  threw  herself  on  her  knees  at  the 
writing-table,  buried  her  face,  and  sobbingly  re- 
peated,— 

"No,  no,  no!" 

He  asked  her  kindly  two  or  three  times  what 
was  the  meaning  of  this  scene,  but  as  he  could  get 
nothing  from  her  but  groans,  he  lost  patience,  and 
told  her  abruptly  either  to  speak  or  to  go. 

"  Oh,  dear,  dear!  "  she  cried,  "  don't  sign." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  am  I  not  to 
sign?" 

"  Nothing  for  that  man  who  went  away  first, 
nothing !  " 

"  I  see  that  I  must  have  double  doors  made. 
But  why  am  I  not  to  sign  ?  " 

She  only  sobbed  in  reply.     Then  Cortis  remem- 


288  THE  POLITICIAN 

bered  the  mysterious  words  she  had  said  to  him  at 
Lugano. 

"  In  heaven's  name,"  he  said,  "  get  up  and  speak. 
Get  up,  I  tell  you !  " 

His  mother  rose,  and,  holding  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes,  went  slowly,  with  bent  figure,  towards 
the  sofa.  When  she  reached  it,  she  removed  her 
hands. 

"  No,"  she  said,  as  if  to  herself,  "  I  cannot  allow 
it."     And  she  seated  herself,  hiding  her  face  afresh. 

Cortis  shuddered. 

"  The  lawyer  will  be  back  in  a  minute,"  he  said, 
"  and  then  you  cannot  stay.  If  you  have  anything 
to  say,  say  it  at  once." 

She  rose  slowly  to  her  feet,  and  stood  upright 
and  pale  as  a  ghost.  For  the  first  time,  perhaps, 
Cortis  saw  real  passion  burning  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  without 
a  gesture,  "  that  he  was  a  friend  of  your  father's  ?  " 

"Who?" 

"  Di  Santa  Giulia." 

"  I  know  that  he  was  introduced  to  him  when  he 
was  a  lieutenant  of  cavalry,  but  that  he  rarely  came 
to  our  house." 

"  Yes,  but  we  often  met  him  out  of  doors.  And 
do  you  know  the  place,  the  year  —  Alessandria,  be- 
tween '53  and  '55?  " 

Cortis  hid  his  face,  placing  his  hand  on  his  fore- 
head as  if  it  hurt  him  to  think.  He  removed  it 
quickly,  pointing  at  his  mother  with  his  forefinger, 
and  arching  his  eyebrows. 


THE  POLITICIAN  289 

"Yes,"  she  said;  "the  time  of  my  misfortune." 

She  was  silent.  Their  eyes  met,  and  spoke  to 
each  other.  A  sudden  fit  of  shivering  seized  Cor- 
tis,  a  sudden  pang  of  agony  made  him  wince.  He 
stretched  his  hands  to  his  mother,  his  eyes  wide 
open. 

"  He?  "  he  asked,  in  a  choked  voice. 

She  drew  several  deep,  long  breaths,  watched  him 
intently,  and  did  not  answer. 

Suddenly  Cortis's  face  became  hard  and  cold. 

"  That  is  the  second  man  you  have  accused,"  he 
said,  stretching  out  an  arm  towards  her. 

"  The  other  was  dead,"  answered  his  mother. 
"  I  hoped  to  save  myself.     Besides,  I  have  proofs." 

"What  proofs?"' 

"  I  have  a  note  which  he  wrote  me  when  I  went 
in  search  of  him  to  Valence,  after  I  had  been  driven 
from  home.  He  had  been  sent  there  with  a  de- 
tachment." 

She  was  speaking  impetuously  now,  with  a  totally 
different  accent  from  that  which  she  usually  em- 
ployed, feeling  herself  confronted  by  a  scepticism, 
which,  though  often  merited,  was,  on  this  occasion, 
undeserved.  This  irritated  her,  and  in  her  irrita- 
tion her  voice  bore  in  it,  unconsciously,  the  ring  of 
truth. 

"  I  have  the  note  here,"  she  said,  drawing  a  paper 
from  the  bosom  of  her  gown.  "  I  knew  beforehand 
that  you  would  not  believe  me.  Perhaps  you  will 
believe  this.  I  have  always  kept  it,  feeling  certain 
that   some  day   my   moment   of  vengeance   would 


290  THE  POLITICIAN 

come.  It  has  come  now.  I  know  that  I  may  be 
injuring  myself,  but  I  don't  mind  that." 

Cortis  pressed  botli  hands  upon  his  temples,  and, 
opening  his  mouth,  drew  several  deep  breaths. 

His  mother  handed  him  the  note  in  silence.  He 
watched  her  hand  and  the  piece  of  paper  which  it 
held,  and  they  both  trembled  violently.  He  dared 
not  take  it. 

A  ring  was  heard  at  the  door-bell. 

"  Please  go  away,"  said  Cortis;  "  here  is  the  law- 
yer." 

"  The  lawyer?     Send  him  away  at  once." 

"  Please  leave  me,"  answered  the  other  im- 
periously. 

The  actress  reappeared  in  her.  She  brandished 
the  note  before  her  son,  drawing  her  head  back  be- 
tween her  shoulders,  and  keeping  her  gaze  fixed 
upon  him.  Then  she  placed  it  with  many  gestures 
on  the  writing-table,  and  left  the  room  slowly,  not, 
however,  without  turning  at  the  door  to  raise  and 
wring  her  clasped  hands. 

Cortis  took  up  the  note.  It  proved  to  be  of  the 
visiting-cards  of  Baron  Carmine  Di  Santa  Giulia, 
ofificer  in  the  Genoese  cavalry,  and  had  on  it  these 
words  in  pencil  and  in  his  handwriting :  — 

"  You  have  deserved  it.  Had  I  been  in  the  doc- 
tor's place,  I  should  have  done  as  he  has.  Woe  to 
us  if  good  and  beautiful  ladies  adopt  this  system. 
Besides,  your  husband  is  a  soldier,  and  above  me  in 
rank.  I  have  already  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  do 
you  likewise.     Good  luck  to  you.     After  all,  I  don't 


THE  POLITICIAN  291 

feel  at  all  certain  of  the  paternity  that  you  wish  to 
foist  upon  me." 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  the  lawyer  entering,  "  have 
I  not  been  quick  ?  I  have  brought  the  stamped  deed 
and  all." 

Cortis  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  him  with 
glassy  eyes. 

*'  If  you  will  allow  me,"  continued  the  lawyer, 
approaching  the  writing-table,  "  I  will  just  write 
two  or  three  lines." 

He  thought  that,  perhaps,  Cortis  would  give  him 
his  own  place,  but  as  he  did  not  offer  to  move, 
Boglietti  resigned  himself  to  fetch  another  chair, 
and  settled  himself  to  write  as  best  he  could. 

"  By  this  —  present  —  private  —  deed  — " 

He  laid  down  his  pen  and  interrupted  his  jerky 
soliloquy  to  turn  to  Cortis. 

"  I  thought  I  would  do  it  this  way,"  he  said,  "  so 
as  to  save  expense.     Don't  you  agree?  " 

Cortis  scarcely  raised  his  head,  and  made  no  re- 
ply; and  the  other,  taking  up  his  pen  again,  con- 
tinued his  work,  muttering  one  by  one  the  words  as 
he  wrote  them  down. 

"  To  acknowledge  — in  —  the  best  manner  — 
that—" 

Cortis  suddenly  seized  a  pen  with  convulsive 
grasp,  twisted  and  tore  it  to  pieces,  and  threw  it 
away  from  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  asked  the  lawyer. 

Cortis  jumped  up,  seized  him  by  the  shoulders, 
and  pres.sed  him  forward. 


292  THE  POLITICIAN 

"Write,  write!"  he  exclaimed;  then  he  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  room. 

The  other  watched  him  in  stupefaction.  Cortis, 
stopped,  and,  stamping  his  foot,  cried  — 

"Will  you  write?" 

Then  he  walked  straight  to  the  door  through 
which  his  mother  had  passed,  and  finding  it  ajar, 
closed  it  with  a  tremendous  bang,  knocking  out  the 
key,  which  fell  on  the  other  side.  He  waited  a 
moment  as  if  trying  to  think  what  had  caused  that 
tinkling  sound,  and  then  he  went  and  seated  himself 
upon  the  sofa.  The  lawyer,  who  could  find  no 
reason  for  this  storm,  glanced  at  him  furtively.  He' 
appeared  to  have  turned  to  stone,  and  Boglietti  con- 
tinued to  write  in  silence. 

After  ten  long  minutes,  he  laid  down  his  pen 
and  looked  at  Cortis;  he  saw  he  had  not  changed 
his  attitude. 

"  There !  "  he  said,  "  it  is  finished  now.  I  beg 
your  pardon,"  he  added,  seeing  that  the  other  did 
not  stir,  "  has  anything  happened  to  you  ?  " 

Cortis  shook  his  head  excitedly. 

"  Now  I  will  read  over  the  deed  to  you,"  con- 
tinued the  lawyer,  and  he  began  to  read,  stopping 
every  now  and  then  to  correct  a  word  or  to  dot  an  i. 

"  You  are  perhaps  saving  a  life,"  he  said  pres- 
ently, seeking  to  move  Cortis  from  his  silence  by  a 
little  flattery. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  can't  be  sure.     Nobody  can  be  quite  sure  of 


THE  POLITICIAN  293 

a  thing  of  that  kind.  I  have,  naturally,  made  some 
inquiries.  I  have  heard  of  certain  rumors,  certain 
speeches;  a  story  of  a  revolver  which  he  showed 
to  his  landlady ;  mere  gossip,  perhaps.  It  may  have 
been  done  for  swagger,  or  it  may  not ;  that  depends 
on  the  man's  character.  You  know  him  better  than 
I  do." 

Cortis  was  still  silent.  His  eyes,  which  were 
fixed,  and  wide  open,  seemed  to  be  gazing  at  some- 
thing in  front  of  him  on  the  floor. 

Yes,  visions  were  passing  before  them,  constantly 
changing,  like  shadows  pointed  out  to  him  by  the 
rapid  motion  of  a  large  hand  hidden  behind  his 
back.  There  wa^  the  face  of  his  father,  sometimes 
taking  the  appearance  it  had  worn  during  the  dif- 
ferent scenes  and  actions  of  his  life,  sometimes  put- 
ting on  the  marble  quiet  of  death ;  then  reopening 
its  eyes,  it  would  raise  its  head  from  the  pillows, 
and  change  into  quite  another  set  of  features :  Cor- 
tis now  had  before  him  the  likeness  of  the  man  who 
had  left  him  a  short  time  previously,  who,  in  his 
turn,  looked  at  him  smoking  and  swearing. 

"  Will  you  sign  this  ?  "  asked  the  lawyer.  "  First 
you,  and  then  I." 

Cortis,  with  burning  face,  raised  his  clenched 
fist,  and  growled  from  between  his  teeth, — 

"  I  will  sign  nothing." 

The  lawyer  started,  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
with  a  surprised  gesture  and  arching  his  eyebrows. 

"  Nothing!  "  repeated  Cortis,  in  a  voice  of  thun- 


294  THE  POLITICIAN 

der.  Boglietti  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  then, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  rose  and  collected  his 
papers. 

Suddenly  a  terrible  idea  occurred  to  Cortis ;  the 
whole  room  seemed  to  ring  with  these  words : 
"What  if  Di  Santa  Giulia  kills  himself?"  Then 
it  would  be  he  who  would  have  killed  him  by  his  re- 
fusal, and  who  would  also  have  set  Elena  free.  Re- 
morse seized  his  heart;  and,  mingled  with  it,  he 
felt  a  bitter  sorrow,  a  terror  of  not  keeping  his 
usual  calmness,  his  iron  will. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  "  when  the  payment  falls 
due,  what  will  you  do  ?  " 

"  You  know  quite  well.  I  shall  at  once  denounce 
him  to  the  public  prosecutor  for  malversation  of 
funds." 

A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door.  Cortis  raised 
his  head,  but  did  not  answer.  It  was  repeated 
more  loudly.  The  wailing  voice  of  Signora  Cortis 
was  heard, — 

"  Daniele !  Daniele !     One  word,  I  beseech  you !  " 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  answered  Cortis  resolutely, 
with  a  frown.  He  shut  his  eyes  for  an  instant, 
and  then,  turning  to  the  lawyer,  asked,  "  What  time 
is  it?" 

These  words  were  said  in  his  usual  clear,  com- 
manding voice.     The   latter   looked   at   his   watch. 

"  Half-past  one." 

Cortis  drew  out  his  own  watch. 

"  I  am  just  half-an-hour  slow,"  he  said,  setting 


THE  POLITICIAN  295 

it  right.  Then  he  went  straight  to  the  writing- 
table,  seized  the  pen,  signed  his  name  to  the  deed 
in  great  haste,  and  handed  it  silently  to  the  law- 
yer. When  the  latter,  amazed,  had  signed  his 
name,  Cortis  motioned  to  him  to  go  away,  and  said 
aloud,  "  Come  in !  " 

As  the  signora  came  in,  she  met  the  lawyer  just 
leaving.  She  glanced  at  him  rapidly,  and  read 
satisfaction  in  his  countenance.  Then  she  ques- 
tioned her  son  with  frightened  eyes.  He  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  but  made  no  sign  to  her. 

"  Please  say  that  I  don't  want  that  coffee  and 
brandy  now,"  said  Cortis.  "  I  must  go  to  the 
Chamber.  Let  my  bed  be  ready  for  me  when  I 
come  in." 

"  Oh,  Daniele,"  exclaimed  his  mother,  "  are  you 
ill?" 

"  No,  I  am  tired ;  I  am  sleepy." 

He  took  up  his  hat. 

"  Daniele,"  groaned  the  signora. 

He  took  two  steps  toward  the  door,  then,  turn- 
ing back,  rang  for  his  servant,  threw  himself  upon 
the  sofa,  and  said, — 

"  Get  me  a  cab." 

The  servant  saw  how  unnerved  he  was  and  how 
unfit  to  go  out,  and  ventured  to  beg  him  to  stay 
quiet. 

"  I  must  go,"  answered  Cortis,  and  he  dragged 
himself  up,  leaning  forward  on  his  knees.  His 
mother  watched  him,  not  daring  to  speak  to  him. 


296  THE  POLITICIAN 

Two  minutes  later  he  started,  with  his  eyes  star- 
ing. He  almost  reeled  as  he  walked.  On  reaching 
the  staircase,  he  said  to  the  servant, — 

"  Should  anything  happen  to  me,  go  and  tell 
Countess  Carre  of  it  at  once  at  the  Minerva.  Do 
whatever  they  tell  you  to  do,"  he  added,  empha- 
sising his  words  by  laying  his  hand  on  the  man's 
shoulder. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IN   THE   CHAMBER  OF  DEPUTIES 

"  I  was  sure  of  it !  "  whispered  Countess  Tar- 
quinia  to  Elena,  fanning  herself  in  great  anger, 
when  she  found  the  hall  almost  empty.  "  We  have 
come  an  hour  too  soon.  I  told  you  so.  Two 
o'clock  would  have  been  quite  early  enough,  or  even 
half-past." 

Many  fans  were  beating  in  unison  with  many 
grumbling  voices,  which  were  making  the  same 
complaint  in  the  gallery  to  the  right  of  the  presi- 
dent. Others  were  placidly  and  slowly  marking  the 
possession  of  phlegmatic  patience,  or  a  train  of 
thought  which  was  travelling  over  a  road  many 
miles  away  from  Montecitorio.  One  practical  man 
was  pointing  out  in  a  loud  voice  the  hall  and  the 
galleries,  objects  and  persons  of  interest,  to  some 
ladies,  and  looking  round  at  the  faces  of  his  neigh- 
bours in  the  hope  of  reading  the  respect  and  ad- 
miration due  to  his  experience.  But  the  ladies 
seemed  to  prefer  studying  each  other.  Only  when 
a  deputy  entered  the  hall,  and  the  knowing  man 
mentioned  his  name,  were  the  fans  stilled,  and  heads 
bent  forward  toward  the  great  open  space. 

Countess  Tarquinia  was  very  smartly  dressed  in 
maroon  and  very  pale  blue,  with  two  bracelets  of 

297 


298  THE  POLITICIAN 

burnished  gold,  four  inches  wide,  and  attracted  a 
great  deal  of  attention.  She  looked  like  Elena's 
elder  sister.  The  latter,  dressed  in  black,  with  no 
ornaments  save  a  turquoise  cross  at  her  throat,  was 
suffering  from  the  impatience  also.  The  inex- 
haustible chatter  of  the  man  near  her,  the  sight  of 
so  many  strangers,  who  stared  at  her  were  weari- 
some. She  would  have  been  satisfied  if  she  could 
have  seen  Cortis ;  that  would  have  calmed  her  im- 
patience ;  but  he  had  not  yet  entered  the  hall.  Some 
few  deputies  were  writing  in  their  places;  others 
were  wandering  about  the  passages  with  their  hands 
in  their  pockets ;  while  still  others  were  standing  in 
groups,  staring  up  at  the  galleries.  One  of  the  lat- 
ter, an  acquaintance  of  the  Countess  Tarquinia's, 
suddenly  saw  her.  He  went  upstairs  to  her  imme- 
diately, and  offered  to  be  of  use  to  her  while  she 
remained  in  Rome.  She  answered  smilingly,  quite 
crimson  with  pleasure  at  this  public  homage.  The 
deputy  had  not  recognised  Elena  at  first,  and  tried 
to  excuse  himself,  as  best  he  could  by  saying  that 
he  thought  she  was  in  Sicily. 

"  That  belief  of  yours  is  very  old  and  very 
strong,"  said  Elena,  with  her  quick  smile.  "  You 
always  think  me  in  Sicily,  even  when  you  see  me 
in  Rome." 

He  blushed  scarlet,  and  protested,  but  Elena  in- 
terrupted him.  by  asking  what  the  business  of  the 
Chamber  v/as  that  day. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  deputy,  "  first,  there's  the 
budget  statement.     You  know  about  that  ?     It  is  on 


THE  POLITICIAN  299 

that  account  that  the  galleries  are  so  crowded.  And 
then,  though  you  must  know  more  about  this  than 
I  do,  there  is  the  coup  d'eclat  prepared  by  Cortis." 

"  Indeed !  "  exclaimed  the  countess.  "  What  is 
that?     He  has  not  said  a  word  to  us  about  it." 

"  Then  it  can't  be  true.  You  know  that  his  con- 
stituents have  sent  up  a  protest  against  him.  It  is 
said  that  he  intends  to  resign  his  seat,  and  to  do  it 
in  a  speech  which  will  be  daring,  to  say  the  least." 

The  people  near  leaned  forward  to  catch  what  he 
said.  Some  one  turned  round  to  repeat  in  a  low 
voice.  Another,  who  had  not  heard  very  well,  whis- 
pered, "  Who  ?  "  And  the  answer  was  given  in  the 
same  low  voice:  "Cortis,  that  clericalist."  Elena 
overheard,  and  shot  a  quick  glance  of  displeasure  at 
the  speaker.  Countess  Tarquinia  was  quite  miser- 
able. She  would  not  believe  it,  and  asked  the  dep- 
uty how  and  when,  and  by  what  means  the  story 
had  got  about.  She  knew  of  the  protest,  but  she 
knew  also  that  many  of  those  who  signed  it,  already 
repented  of  what  they  had  done.  The  deputy  an- 
swered vaguely;  he  did  not  know  much,  and  re- 
gretting that  he  could  give  them  no  further  informa- 
tion, and  so  saying,  he  took  his  leave. 

"  He  is  quite  equal  to  doing  that !  "  muttered  the 
countess  to  her  daughter.  "  Sometimes  he  gets  ex- 
traordinary ideas  into  his  head !  And  fancy  not 
saying  anything  to  us !  Of  course,  that  was  only  to 
be  expected.  But  I  vow  that  I  shall  go  away  as 
soon  as  he  begins  to  speak." 

"Why?" 


300  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Because  who  knows  what  may  happen,  and  then 
I  should  faint!  Goodness  gracious,  are  you  made 
of  stone?  I  shall  go  away.  And  you,  I  suppose, 
will  remain?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Do  so,  and  then  have  people  coming  to  me  and 
saying  — " 

This  conversation  was  carried  on  in  whispers,  and 
the  countess's  last  remark  was  made  in  almost  less 
than  a  whisper,  but  Elena  heard  it.  Her  face  crim- 
soned with  contempt,  and  she  guessed  that  some 
accusation  had  been  made  for  which  she  had  given 
no  cause. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  asked.  "Who  has 
said  anything  of  the  sort  ?  " 

"  Nothing.     Nobody  "— 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  no  one  had  spoken  to  Coun- 
tess Tarquinia  about  any  suspected  tenderness  be- 
tween Cortis  and  her  daughter ;  but  a  certain  pious 
gossip  had  written  to  her  about  it  a  long  time  before, 
of  course  with  a  good  motive.  Elena  said  no  more. 
Her  heart  beat  violently  with  grief,  contempt,  and 
disgust,  as  if  some  horrible  curiosity  had  come  to 
peep  into  it.  And  now  she  felt  as  if  she,  too,  wished 
to  go  away ;  staying  there  w^as  disagreeable  to  her ; 
she  felt  that,  when  Cortis  came  in,  when  he  began 
to  speak,  she  should  betray  her  thoughts.  Mean- 
while, the  fan  of  Countess  Tarquinia  moved  up  and 
down  unceasingly,  showing  more  weariness  than 
ever. 


THE  POLITICIAN  301 

"  How  tiresome !  "  she  said. 

A  lady  near  her  said  timidly, — 

"  I  was  told  that  they  met  at  once?  " 

Countess  Tarquinia  made  no  answer.  The  delay 
was  not  her  principal  cause  of  annoyance. 

"  They  will  soon  begin  now,"  said  the  officious 
man.  "  Do  you  see  that  deputy  beginning  to  write 
just  above  the  second  passage  ?  That  is  Minghetti. 
And  there  is  Crispi." 

The  countess  forgot  her  troubles  for  a  minute  in 
order  to  gaze,  with  every  one  else,  at  the  minister 
who  was  just  entering  in  his  usual  listless  manner. 

A  lady  whispered, — 

"How  old  he,  is!" 

"  Look,"  remarked  Countess  Tarquinia  to  her 
daughter,  "  is  he  not  the  image  of  the  chemist  at 
Passo  di  Rovese  ?     The  very  image !  " 

Elena  did  not  heed  her.  She,  too,  had  been 
startled  on  seeing  the  minister  come  in,  and  had 
received  a  shock  from  it,  making  her  feel  Cortis's 
absence  still  more  keenly.  Her  heart  beat  fast. 
"  What  if  he  were  ill ! "  she  thought.  And  in 
imagination  she  saw  him  lying  in  bed,  his  eyes  glit- 
tering with  fever. 

"The  president  has  not  come  yet,"  said  some  one. 
"  He  is  generally  in  his  place  half-an-hour  before 
this." 

Then  a  gentleman,  who  had  entered  a  few  minutes 
before,  said  that  he  had  seen  him  coming  out  of 
his  room  with  Cortis. 


302  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  There !  "  whispered  Countess  Tarquinia.  "  Did 
you  hear  that?  No  doubt  they  have  been  talking 
over  his  speech." 

"  Farini !  Farini !  "  said  the  knowing  man  to  his 
neighbours.     **  Do  you  see  Farini  ?  " 

The  president  of  the  Chamber  entered  hurriedly 
at  his  moment,  and,  having  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  one  of  the  officials,  took  his  seat.  Elena 
waited  breathlessly  to  see  who  would  come  in  be- 
hind him. 

The  minister  Magliani  made  his  appearance,  then 
came  the  ushers,  bearing  the  boxes  and  portfolios, 
which  they  placed  on  the  ministerial  bench.  Thirty 
other  deputies  entered  one  by  one;  the  president's 
bell,  with  its  shrill  tinkle,  broke  in  upon  the  hum  of 
conversation,  a  clerk  began  to  read  something  aloud 
in  a  sing-song  voice,  to  which  nobody  paid  the  slight- 
est attention.  Still  Cortis  did  not  appear.  Elena, 
however,  knew  that  he  had  had  an  interview  with 
the  president,  and  she  was  more  at  ease. 

"Where  does  Cortis  sit?"  asked  her  mother, 
Elena  did  not  know.  The  knowing  man  hastened 
to  answer  with  polite  officiousness. 

"  There,  signora,  by  that  third  passage,  near  the 
pale  deputy  with  a  black  beard.  Here  is  Signer 
Cortis.     He  has  just  come.     There  he  is." 

Elena  was  looking  to  the  right,  and  Cortis  entered 
on  the  left,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  another  deputy. 
He  crossed  the  open  space  in  front  of  the  tribune, 
and  went  to  his  place  without  raising  his  eyes  to 
the  gallery.     Elena  could  not  see  his  face  clearly, 


THE  POLITICIAN  303 

but  something  in  his  walk  and  in  his  attitude,  caused 
her  great  anxiety. 

"  That  really  is  Daniele  down  there,"  said  Coun- 
tess Tarquinia.  "  But  he  looks  like  an  old  man, 
doesn't  he?  " 

The  other  made  no  reply. 

Somebody  said  "  hush,"  because  the  president 
was  reading  a  paper  which  demanded  the  attention 
of  the  Chamber.  Every  ear  in  the  gallery  was  bent 
to  listen. 

"  A  resignation,"  said  some  one,  when  the  presi- 
dent had  finished  reading. 

"Whose?" 

The  person  could  not  catch  the  name,  but  it  was 
certainly  not  that  of  Cortis.  Silence!  A  deputy 
has  asked  leave  to  speak.  Who  is  it?  This  one 
here?  no,  it  was  that  other  one  over  there.  It  was 
C.  proposing  that  the  resignation  should  not  be  ac- 
cepted, and  that  the  deputy  P.  should  have  leave  of 
absence  for  a  month.  People  murmured  in  the  gal- 
leries and  said :  "  The  daily  comedy."  A  second 
deputy  rose,  then  a  third,  and  after  him  a  fourth. 
They  all  spoke  alike.  The  question  was  put  to  vote, 
and  the  Chamber  approved.  Then  Cortis  rose,  and, 
in  a  hesitating  voice,  said, — 

"  I  ask  permission  to  speak." 

"Upon  what  subject?"  asked  the  president. 

"  I  wish  to  make  a  statement.  As  I  do  not  desire 
to  detain  the  Chamber,  which  is  now  justly  impa- 
tient to  hear  the  honourable  Signor  Magliani,  I  beg 
for  leave  to  speak  after  the  budget  statement." 


304  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Very  good,"  answered  the  president. 

While  these  few  words  were  passing,  Elena  had 
not  moved  a  muscle. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  her  mother.  "  We  will 
hear  Magliani,  and  then  go.  Did  you  notice 
Daniele's  voice?     The  boy  can't  be  well." 

Elena  was  still  silent,  watching  Cortis  with  a 
fixed,  searching  look,  which,  in  her,  denoted  intense 
passion.  He  was  there,  with  his  elbows  on  the 
bench  and  his  head  between  his  hands.  He  never 
raised  it,  and  this  made  Elena  suffer,  and  at  the  same 
time  angry  with  herself  for  suffering,  for  she  de- 
spised the  selfish  sentiment  that  reigned  in  her  own 
heart.  Of  course  he  was  entirely  occupied  with 
thinking  over  what  he  was  going  to  say.  How 
could  he  think  of  her? 

Meanwhile,  the  minister  had  begun  to  speak. 
Nearly  all  the  deputies  had  crowded  into  the 
benches  round  him,  so  as  to  hear  better.  From  the 
president's  gallery  his  white  head  was  visible,  mov- 
ing from  right  to  left.  He  leaned  forward  every 
now  and  then  to  look  at  th^  papers  spread  out  on 
the  table,  glanced  at  some  figures,  then  raised  him- 
self again.  His  fluent  tongue  continued  its  exposi- 
tion of  everything  connected  with  the  public  finances 
with  that  ability  which  some  admired  and  others 
deplored.  The  minister  said  himself,  he  did  not  at- 
tempt oratorical  effects;  nevertheless  frequent  mur- 
murs of  approval  filled  the  hall,  due  not  only  to  the 
genius  of  the  man  and  the  profound  knowledge  of 
every  detail  relating  to  his  office  which  he  displayed, 


THE  POLITICIAN  305 

and  which  were  mysteries  to  most  of  his  audience, 
but  also  to  the  reports  of  his  boldness,  and,  above 
all,  in  the  glamour  of  his  extraordinary  success. 

"  This  is  amusing,"  whispered  Countess  Tar- 
quinia,  after  a  time.  "  He  quite  takes  away  my 
breath.     How  long  will  he  go  on  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Elena.  "  I  mean  to 
stay  after  he  has  done." 

"  Very  well !  "  answered  her  mother. 

The  metaphors,  the  subtle  reasonings  flowed  on, 
but  a  few  of  them  reached  the  president's  gallery. 
Every  moment  some  one  got  up  and  crept  out,  along 
the  benches  on  the  tips  of  his  toes.  Few  remained 
to  attend  to  the  speech  of  the  minister,  and  to  hear 
the  cheers  of  the  Chamber.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
public  galleries  were  filled  to  overflowing.  From 
the  senators'  gallery,  Clenizzi  frequently  looked 
across  to  the  countess  and  her  daughter,  vainly  seek- 
ing to  be  recognised  by  them.  Suddenly  the  minis- 
ter ceased  and  resumed  his  seat.  A  noise  rose  from 
the  floor  of  the  hall,  like  the  buzzing  of  a  cloud  of 
flies  suddenly  disturbed. 

"  That's  over,"  said  Countess  Tarquinia.  "  What 
is  Cortis  about?  " 

At  that  moment  Cortis  had  crossed  his  arms  upon 
the  back  of  the  bench  in  front  of  him,  and  laid  his 
head  upon  them.  It  was  not  his  turn  yet.  Another 
minister  rose  to  present  a  report  and  then  Magliani, 
who  had  only  asked  leave  to  rest  for  five  minutes, 
began  again.  Elena  grew  very  uneasy.  She  saw 
that   Cortis   was   feeling   ill.     She   feared   that   he 


3o6  THE  POLITICIAN 

would  not  be  able  to  speak  as  he  intended,  and  that 
he  would  suffer  in  consequence.  She  would  have 
rejoiced  to  see  him  get  up  and  go  out ;  and  she  was 
indignant  witfi  all  those  deputies  sitting  around  him, 
who  never  troubled  to  inquire  if  he  were  ill,  or  to 
advise  him  to  go  away.  Had  Cortis  no  friends  in 
the  Chamber?  She  longed  to  go  down  to  him  and 
lead  him  out,  and  wondered  if  she  could  not  charge 
T.  with  the  task.  She  borrowed  an  operaglass  from 
a  neighbour  to  see  where  he  was  sitting,  and  tried 
to  make  a  sign  to  him  to  come  up  into  the  gallery. 
Just  then  she  looked  at  Cortis.  Some  one  had 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  he  started  and 
raised  his  head.  Elena  could  see  his  face  clearly  and 
it  was  on  fire,  perhaps  from  having  been  hidden  so 
long  in  his  arms.  She  saw  him  exchange  a  few 
words  with  the  man  who  had  touched  him,  and  then 
shake  his  head  in  token  of  refusal;  then  he  looked 
up  at  the  gallery,  but  without  rocognising  any  one, 
and  slowly  subsided  into  his  former  attitude.  And 
that  man  did  not  speak  to  him  any  more,  did  not 
carry  him  by  force  out  of  the  Chamber!  T.  was 
listening  intently  to  the  minister's  speech,  and  never 
looked  up  at  the  gallery.  Elena  thought  of  going 
down  to  the  parliamentary  office  in  the  Via  della 
Missione,  and  sending  for  Cortis.  But  she  would 
not.  If  he  was  thinking  over  his  speech,  her  inter- 
ruption would  be  inopportune.  If  only  she  could 
get  at  T.  instead !  The  minister  had  just  finished 
his    speech,    amid    loud   applause.     Deputies    from 


THE  POLITICIAN  307 

every  side  crowded   round   him.     In  the   galleries 
many  people  already  prepared  to  go. 

"  Dear  child,"  said  the  countess,  "  won't  you  come 
away?  " 

Elena  did  not  answer.  Perhaps  she  did  not  hear. 
She  was  standing  upright,  leaning  over  the  balus- 
trade of  the  gallery  and  waiting  breathlessly  till  the 
president  should  call  upon  Cortis. 

"  The  hall  will  soon  be  empty  now,"  said  the  man 
who  knew  everything.  But  instead  of  going  away, 
nearly  all  the  deputies  resumed  their  seats. 

"  The  honourable  Signor  Cortis,"  said  the  presi- 
dent, "  has  leave  to  speak !  " 

Elena's  eyes ,  turned  involuntarily  towards  the 
clock  facing  her.     It  marked  five  minutes  to  four. 

Cortis  rose.  From  every  quarter  of  the  Chamber 
except  from  the  centre,  all  looked  at  him  attentively ; 
some  with  lively  curiosity,  others  with  contemptuous 
indifference,  others  again  with  predetermined  con- 
demnation. In  the  centre  were  certain  conceited 
mediocrities  who  had  writhed  under  his  sarcasms, 
and  who  continued  to  talk  and  laugh,  despite  the 
president's  bell;  Elena  meanwhile,  grew  very  pale, 
and  bit  her  lips.  Cortis  seemed  to  be  waiting  for 
silence,  leaning  his  body  forward  to  the  bench  upon 
which  his  hand  rested.  The  president  rang  his  bell 
once  more,  and  said, — 

"  Speak,  Signor  Cortis." 

And  at  once  Cortis  began, — 

"  I  must  beg  the  Chamber  — "  he  stopped,  seek- 


3o8  THE  POLITICIAN 

ing  for  a  word.  He  passed  his  hand  over  his  fore- 
head, and  began  again  in  a  feeble  voice,  — 

"  The  state  of  my  health  compels  me  to  beg,  be- 
fore proceeeding  further,  the  indulgence  of  the 
Chamber." 

He  paused  again,  perhaps  to  struggle  with  his 
weakness  and  to  revive  the  force  and  courage  of  his 
mind  and  body.  His  voice  appeared  stronger  when 
he  next  spoke, — 

"  It  is  probable  that  the  Chamber  will  adjourn  to- 
day, and  I  cannot  postpone  an  action  which  I  regard 
as  a  duty  to  my  constituents,  my  country,  and  my- 
self, 

"  Before  quitting  this  assembly,  perhaps  for 
ever  — " 

As  he  uttered  the  words  "  perhaps  for  ever,"  his 
voice  failed,  and  his  tongue  seemed  paralysed.  He 
said  a  few  more  unintelligible  words,  and  would 
have  fallen  if  his  neighbours  had  not  hastily  sup- 
ported him.  A  cry  was  heard  from  the  president's 
gallery,  but  nobody  paid  any  attention  to  it.  Ush- 
ers and  deputies  rushed  to  Cortis,  and  he  was  imme- 
diately carried  out  of  the  hall. 

Elena  had  not  understood  at  first  and  had  leaned 
forward  to  catch  the  broken  words  that  he  uttered. 
But  upon  seeing  his  neighbours  support  him,  and 
seeing  him  helpless  in  their  hands,  she  rose  and  ut- 
tered a  stifled  cry.  Everyone  in  the  galleries  was 
now  aware  that  something  had  happened.  All  were 
standing  on  the  benches,  leaning  over  the  balus- 
trades in  eager  curiosity.     When  Cortis  was  lifted 


THE  POLITICIAN  309 

by  two  of  his  colleagues  and  carried  out,  suddenly, 
without  herself  or  any  one  else  knowing  how,  she 
broke  away  from  her  mother,  who,  alarmed,  tried  to 
hold  her,  and  rushed  out  of  the  gallery. 

The  doorkeeper,  seeing  a  pale,  excited  lady  com- 
ing towards  him,  tried  to  stop  her,  and  asked  what 
she  wanted,  but  she  repulsed  him  with  a  haughty 
gesture,  and,  passing  on,  found  herself  in  the  corri- 
dor joining  the  gallery  on  that  side  of  the  Chamber. 
The  corridor  was  empty,  silent.  She  stopped  a  mo- 
ment, not  knowing  which  way  to  go,  when  a  gentle- 
man who  had  followed  her  said, — 

"  Signorina,  don't  be  alarmed,  it  will  be  nothing; 
I  have  seen  your  mother,  who  is  also  somewhat  up- 
set." 

The  expression  "  Signorina,"  used  at  that  mo- 
ment, might  have  meant  so  much  that  it  would  have 
pierced  Elena  through  and  through  had  not  all  her 
thoughts  and  senses  been  fixed  elsewhere.  She 
fancied  she  heard  steps  and  voices  on  her  left,  and 
hastening  in  that  direction  without  answering,  she 
found  herself  at  the  head  of  the  staircase  leading  to 
the  rooms  of  the  president's  office. 

A  crowd  of  people  were  coming  up.  P.  and  an- 
other, noticed  Elena,  and  advancing  towards  her 
they  took  her  aside  so  as  to  prevent  her  seeing  Cor- 
tis,  who  was  being  carried  up  behind  them. 

"  It  is  nothing,  baroness,"  said  P.  "  A  fainting 
fit,  quite  unimportant,  it  will  soon  pass." 

"  Nothing  indeed,"  repeated  the  other ;  "  you  may 
be  quite  easy." 


3IO  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Where  is  he?  I  wish  to  see  him,"  asked  Elena 
convulsively.  "  Has  he  a  doctor  ?  I  want  to  help 
him.     He  is  my  cousin !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  men ;  "  you  shall  see  him 
and  help  him.  B.  and  G.  are  with  him  now.  All 
that  he  wants  is  quiet  and  rest." 

Two  or  three  other  deputies  joined  them  and 
made  a  hedge  around  Elena,  while  the  sad  proces- 
sion passed  rapidly  by,  and  entered  the  president's 
offices. 

Elena  saw  it;  and  she  attempted  to  follow  it,  but 
she  was  prevented.  Calming  herself,  she  begged  P. 
to  go  and  find  her  mother  in  the  gallery,  then  she 
urged  sweetly,  almost  smilingly,  that  they  take  her 
to  the  sick  man's  room,  where  she  could  see  the 
doctors.  She  declared  that  the  uncertainty  was 
harder  to  bear  than  the  reality.  At  last  they  re- 
spectfully allowed  her  to  pass,  seeing  her  more  calm. 
Some  one  coming  up  the  staircase,  who  could  not  see 
her,  said  in  a  loud  voice :  "  Have  they  taken  him 
in  there?  It  is  a  bad  omen;  that  was  poor  — 's 
room,"  and  he  named  a  young  Lombard  deputy,  full 
of  genius  and  fire,  who  had  been  struck  down  at  his 
post  also.  He  had  been  carried  into  that  room  and 
had  died  there  shortly  afterwards.  Elena  stopped 
for  a  moment,  with  her  hand  to  her  heart,  then  she 
made  her  way  into  the  ante-room ;  dark,  and  full  of 
people  talking  below  their  breath.  Some  one  was 
giving  orders  from  a  still  darker  room  on  the  left; 
while  between  the  two  rooms  a  constant  stream  of 
messengers  passed  to  and  fro.     A  little  light  entered 


THE  POLITICIAN  311 

through  a  glass  door  from  the  well-furnished,  cheer- 
ful room  adjoining.  Elena  turned  to  the  left  to- 
wards the  person  who  was  giving  orders.  He  said 
to  her  somewhat  roughly, — 

"  Are  you  his  wife  —  his  sister?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  then,  I  am  sorry,  but  you  can't  come  in." 

"  But  I  wish  to  know  — "  said  Elena,  trembling. 

"  What  ?  What  we  none  of  us  know  yet  ?  You 
shall  come  in  later.     Wait  there." 

He  pointed  to  the  light  room,  and  returning  to 
his  patient  with  a  messenger  who  had  just  arrived 
bearing  something  in  his  hand,  he  closed  the  door. 

The  deputy  who  had  first  spoken  to  her  in  com- 
pany with  P.  went  up  to  Elena  and  told  her  there 
was  a  fear  of  congestion  of  the  brain,  certainly  not 
a  very  slight  attack,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  not  a 
very  serious  one.  They  had  placed  him  in  an  arm- 
chair, and  were  now  getting  a  bed  ready.  He  per- 
suaded her  to  believe  that,  for  the  moment,  she  could 
do  nothing,  though  her  help  would  be  very  useful 
later  on.  He  took  her  into  the  light  room,  and  made 
her  sit  down  upon  a  sofa  behind  the  door.  From 
there  she  could  not  see  what  went  on  in  the  ante- 
room. 

"  Do  you  feel  unwell  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Can  I  get 
you  anything?  " 

Elena  shook  her  head,  murmured  an  inaudible 
"  No,  thank  you,"  and  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
lamp  which,  though  it  was  not  yet  five  o'clock,  was 
burning  on  the  table. 


312  THE  POLITICIAN      - 

"  The  sittings  often  finish  late,  and  they  light  the 
lamps  here  in  good  time,"  remarked  the  deputy,  to 
make  conversation. 

She  made  no  answer.  After  a  while  she  begged 
him  not  to  put  himself  out  to  remain  with  her,  as 
she  could  easily  stay  by  herself.  At  this  moment  P. 
entered  and  said  that  Countess  Tarquinia  was  wait- 
ing for  her  daughter  in  the  passage.  Elena,  rising 
from  her  sofa,  went  to  her  mother,  who,  lean- 
ing upon  Clenizzi's  arm,  seemed  half  out  of  her 
mind. 

"  Oh  dear,  Elena !  "  she  said,  "  why  did  you  leave 
me  in  this  way  ?  For  mercy's  sake  let  us  go  home ! 
I  can't  breathe,  I  can't  stand;  I  cannot  remain 
here!" 

"  Courage,  Mamma,"  answered  Elena ;  "  I  can't 
come  just  now.  I  will  come  later,  perhaps,  when  I 
have  seen  what  turn  things  take.  Then  I  shall  come 
back  here,  naturally.  I  am  strong,  and  can  be  of 
use." 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  won't  you  come  now  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  will  beg  the  senator  to  call  a  cab  and 
take  you  to  the  hotel." 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  said  the  senator,  his  honest 
face  looking  serious  and  woebegone.  I  am  at  your 
service.  I  will  take  the  countess  home,  and  then  I 
will  come  back  and  accompany  you  if  you  like." 

"  There  is  no  need  of  that,  thank  you,"  answered 
Elena  hastily.  "  I  cannot  say  now  when  I  shall 
come." 

'*  I   expect,"    said   the   senator,   leaning  towards 


THE  POLITICIAN  313 

her,  "  that  you  will  presently  have  that  lady  here 
who  arrived  this  morning." 

Elena  started. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  In  any  case,  I 
shall  come  back  here." 

"  Elena,  Elena,"  groaned  her  mother,  "  do  re- 
member that  you  have  no  strength  to  throw  away." 

Elena  raised  her  eyebrows,  shrugging  her 
shoulders  contemptuously. 

"  Now  I  am  going,"  she  said,  and,  without  further 
word,  she  disappeared  in  the  ante-room.  A  moment 
later  she  found  an  opportunity  and  slipped  behind  a 
messenger  into  the  sick-man's  room. 

When  she  left  it  two  or  three  hours  later  she  was 
very  pale,  but  calm,  and  talked  with  several  members 
of  the  staff  of  the  president's  office.  They  offered 
her,  with  the  utmost  courtesy,  every  assistance  that 
they  could  give,  promising  to  leave  nothing  undone 
to  help  Cortis,  of  whom  they  spoke  in  terms  of  high 
esteem  and  sympathy.  They  expressed  the  opinion 
that  the  danger  had  been  met  by  the  letting  of  blood, 
which  had  been  instantly  done.  Elena  only  asked 
to  be  allowed  to  send  a  telegram,  which  she  ad- 
dressed to  Count  Lao  in  these  words : — 

"  Daniele  seriously  ill.     I  want  you  immediately." 

Then  she  sent  a  note  to  Clenizzi  to  inform  him 
that  she  could  not  leave  unless  her  mother  had  ab- 
solute need  of  her;  and  she  returned  to  Cortis,  by 
whose  side  she  now  found  another  person,  a  long, 
lean  woman,  who  could  do  nothing  but  sob  and 
groan. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AN    INTERVENTION 

"  The  express  from  Florence?  "  inquired  Senator 
Clenizzi  of  a  railway  official,  as  he  arrived  at  the 
Roman  station  quite  out  of  breath  about  four  in  the 
afternoon. 

"  Twenty  minutes  late,"  answered  the  man. 

The  senator  breathed,  raised  his  hat,  wiped  his 
forehead  with  his  handkerchief,  and  looked  at  the 
omnibuses  drawn  up  in  the  yard  outside  the  sta- 
tion. He  w^as  no  longer  afraid  of  arriving  too  late, 
but,  little  by  little,  the  traces  of  a  much  more  seri- 
ous preoccupation  showed  themselves  on  his  old 
face,  and  his  trembling  lips  and  eyebrows  showed 
the  trouble  of  his  mind. 

"  Are  you  going  by  train  ?  "  asked  a  young  man 
of  Clenizzi  in  the  Bergamo  dialect. 

"  My  dear  boy,  answered  the  old  man,  "  forgive 
me  for  not  having  seen  you  before." 

"  Are  you  starting?  "  repeated  the  other. 

"  Madonna !  Don't  laugh  at  me !  But  how  glad 
I  should  be  if  I  could  wake  up  to-morrow  morning 
and  look  out  upon  our  market-place.  You  know  it 
well,  young  man ;  there  are  many  beautiful  things  in 
the  world,  but  I  tell  you  this,  there  is  but  one  Ber- 
gamo." 

314 


THE  POLITICIAN  315 

"  You  are  on  duty  here,  are  you  not  ?  Looking 
after  some  pretty  ladies,  eh  ?  When  there  are  pretty 
ladies  about,  Senator  Clenizzi  — " 

"  Come,  come,  don't  talk  nonsense.  Count  Carre 
is  coming  by  this  train,  and  I  shall  have  enough  to 
do  looking  after  him.     Are  you  going  to  Naples  ?  " 

"  Yes,  signore." 

"  A  pleasant  journey  to  you  then." 

At  ten  minutes  past  four  the  train  from  Florence 
arrived.  The  doorway  of  the  station  was  crowded, 
and  amongst  the  crowd  stood  the  senator,  his  eyes 
staringly  fixed  upon  the  stream  of  passengers  that 
passed  him.  Faces  of  every  age  and  shape,  Italian 
and  foreign,  passed  him ;  faces  which  looked  greedily 
right  and  left  at  the  crowd ;  faces  which  expressed 
disgust  at  the  throng  and  its  curiosity;  but  still  that 
pale  face,  with  its  well-shaped  nose  and  black  beard, 
did  not  come.  The  senator's  eyes  became  every 
minute  more  anxious.  Now,  nearly  every  one  was 
gone,  and  the  crowd  had  dispersed.  Was  it  possi- 
ble? He  moved  forward,  looked  again,  and  his 
face  beamed  with  pleasure  as  he  went  to  meet  Count 
Lao,  who  came  behind  everybody  else,  walking  very 
slowly,  and  smoking,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  the  collar  of  his  great-coat  turned  up.  He  was 
followed  by  a  porter  laden  with  portmanteaux, 
shawls,  and  rugs. 

"  My  dear  count,"  said  the  senator,  "  I  am  here 
to  greet  you  in  the  name  of  your  family." 

Lao  gave  him  a  slight  nod  of  acknowledgment, 
and  asked  immediately, — 


3i6  THE  POLITICIAN 

"And  Cortis?" 

"  He  is  getting  on.  Let  me  see,  this  is  the  28th, 
is  it  not?  Three  days  have  passed.  There  is  no 
comparison  between  this  and  the  first  day." 

"  Good !  "  exclaimed  Count  Lao.  "  But  they 
might  have  telegraphed  me  again  to  give  me  better 
news.  I  came  expecting  to  find  him  almost 
dead." 

"  But,  you  see,  they  did  not  know  when  you  would 
start,  or  where  to  telegraph.  And  besides,  you 
might  have  seen  bulletins  in  all  the  papers." 

"  I  never  read  the  papers,"  returned  Lao  shortly, 
shaking  his  head.     "  So  he  is  improving?  " 

"  Oh,  without  a  doubt ;  he  will  soon  be  well 
again." 

They  got  into  the  omnibus  belonging  to  Mi- 
nerva and  Lao  hastened  to  shut  every  window,  and 
enveloped  his  legs  in  a  rug,  grumbling, — 

"  I  was  broiled  in  the  train,  and  here  I  am  frozen. 
He  is  getting  well,  and  I  shall  die  instead." 

Clenizzi,  who  only  knew  him  slightly,  looked  at 
him  as  if  he  were  some  curious  animal. 

*'  Have  you  caught  cold  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Caught  cold?  If  that  were  all!  I  tell  you  I 
am  going  to  die.  It  would  bore  me  horribly  to  die 
in  Rome,  because  every  time  I  have  come  I  have 
caught  the  fever,  and  if  I  were  to  rise  again  here,  I 
should  certainly  catch  it  anew.  And  now  tell  me, 
what  has  been  the  matter  with  Cortis  ?  " 

The  senator  told  him  all  about  it.  By  this  time 
the  threatened  symptoms  of  congestion  of  the  brain 


THE  POLITICIAN  317 

had  disappeared,  and,  with  them,  some  of  the  dan- 


ger. 


"  Is  he  still  at  the  Chamber?  "  asked  the  count. 

"  Yes,  he  is  still  there." 

"  And  my  sister-in-law  and  niece  ?  Always  there 
too,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Baroness  Elena  is  always  there,  except  for  a 
few  hours  in  the  night,  and  a  few  moments  in  the 
day." 

"  But  they  are  fairly  easy  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  know  that  there  are  other  things 
to  trouble  them.." 

Count  Lao,  deafened  by  the  noise  of  the  omnibus 
and  the  traffic  in  the  streets,  cursed  every  vehicle  in 
Rome,  and  leaned  forward  towards  his  companion 
with  wide-open  eyes. 

"  What  has  happened  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  senator  looked  out  of  the  window  till  some  of 
the  noise  was  over,  and  then  repeated, — 

"  There  are  other  things  too.  You  know  that 
Cortis's  mother  is  here?" 

"  Daniele  wrote  and  told  me  she  was  coming," 
answered  the  count,  "  but  I  didn't  know  she  had  al- 
ready arrived.  I  wrote  back  to  him,  and  said: 
'  You  are  an  ass.'  One  expects  a  big  heart  like  his 
in  an  animal,  but  not  in  a  man." 

"  Well,  that  is  one  source  of  trouble,"  said 
Clenizzi.  "  And  besides  that  —  you  know  already 
— there  is  my  colleague,  your  relation." 

Count  Lao  frowned,  and,  clenching  his  fists,  made 
a  noise  between  a  groan  and  a  roar. 


3i8  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  And  that's  enough,  in  all  conscience!  "  said  the 
other.  "  Here  we  are.  Now  you  will  hear  all 
about  it." 

The  omnibus  was  just  turning  into  the  Via  Pie 
di  Marmo.  An  instant  later,  Lao  was  very  slowly 
going  up  the  stairs  of  the  hotel,  and  Elena  was  has- 
tening down  to  meet  him. 

"  I  saw  you  coming,"  she  cried,  stretching  out  her 
arms.     "  How  glad  I  am  you  are  here !  " 

Lao  clasped  her  silently  to  his  breast,  kissed  her 
forehead,  and,  when  he  raised  his  face,  he  said,  in 
a  voice  full  of  emotion, — 
"  And  I,  too,  am  glad !  " 

Elena  stretched  out  her  hand  to  Clenizzi  rather 
to  send  him  away  than  to  thank  him  for  his  trouble. 
He  read  in  her  face  that  she  was  impatient  to  be 
alone  with  her  uncle.     Lao  took  her  arm. 
"  Let  us  go  upstairs,"  she  said. 
"  Gently,  gently,"  answered  Lao,  "  remember  that 
I  have  eight  hours  of  that  infernal  railway  in  my 
spine,  without  counting  the  ten  or  twelve  of  yester- 
day.    I  thought  that  if  I  did  not  sleep  at  Florence.  I 
should  arrive  dead,  and  then  what  would  you  have 
done  with  me?     There  are  no  miracles  nowadays, 
you  know." 

"  Dear  uncle,"  whispered  Elena,  pressing  his 
arm  tightly,  "  our  rooms  are  on  the  second  floor, 
but  I  ordered  one  for  you  on  the  first,  and  we  will 
go  straight  there.  Mamma  went  to  lie  down  an 
hour  ago.  She  told  me  to  wake  her  as  soon  as  you 
arrived,  but  we  may  put  it  off  for  a  little." 


THE  POLITICIAN  319 

"  I  hope  to  Heaven,"  said  Lao,  "  that  my  room 
does  not  look  to  the  north?" 

"  No,  no,  uncle." 

It  was  some  time  before  all  the  trunks,  rugs,  and 
shawls  of  the  traveller  were  finally  disposed  in  his 
room.  At  last,  however,  uncle  and  niece  found 
themselves  sitting  alone  on  the  sofa,  hand  in  hand. 

"And  so,"  he  began,  "  Daniele  is  doing  well?" 

"  Yes,  pretty  well." 

Elena  answered  quietly,  without  raising  her  eyes 
to  her  uncle's  face. 

"  That  fellow  who  comes  from  Bergamo  — 
what's  his  name?  —  Clenizzi,  told  me  so.  He  told 
me  all  about  Daniele.  And  he  said  something  about 
the  worries  that  you  have." 

"  It  is  necessary  that  you  should  know  every- 
thing without  delay,  uncle,  before  you  see  mamma, 
because,  well,  you  know  what  she  is,  and  how  impos- 
sible it  is  to  talk  things  over  with  her.  She  gets 
into  such  a  state  —  so  excited ;  in  short,  it  is  better 
that  you  and  I  should  have  a  chat  together  first." 

"  Talk  away,"  said  Count  Lao.  "  If  you  don't 
mind,  I  am  just  going  to  take  a  little  sulphate  of 
quinine.  It  is  a  good  thing  on  first  coming  to 
Rome.     But  you  talk." 

He  rose,  opened  a  bag,  and  began  to  arrange  his 
medicine-chest  with  the  greatest  care,  taking  out 
a  quantity  of  bottles  and  boxes,  looking  at  some  of 
them  with  great  attention,  and  repeating,  "  Speak, 
speak !  "  Elena  having  thought  it  best  to  stop  her 
narrative  for  the  moment. 


320  THE  POLITICIAN 

She  told  him  that  her  aunt  Cortis  had  arrived  at 
the  Chamber  shortly  after  Daniele  was  taken  ill,  and 
had  made  a  scene  because  she  had  not  been  informed 
at  once.  She  had  expressed  her  intention  of  re- 
maining near  her  son.  As  luck  would  have  it, 
Daniele  talked  in  his  deHrium  of  nothing  but  politics 
and  his  mother,  saying  things  that  were  very  pain- 
ful both  for  her  and  other  people  to  hear.  Then 
she  would  begin  to  sob  and  wail,  turning  first  to- 
wards the  sick  man,  then  towards  any  others  who 
might  be  present,  declaring  that  this  was  all  the 
effects  of  his  illness,  that  her  son  really  loved  her 
dearly,  that  this  was  untrue,  and  that  was  untrue  — 
until  at  last  the  doctors  ordered  that  the  patient 
should  see  as  little  of  her  as  possible.  She  would 
not  hear  of  this,  and  was  always  trying  to  make 
herself  conspicuous  at  his  bedside.  Elena  made  no 
other  comment  upon  the  zeal  of  her  aunt  than  was 
implied  in  the  use  of  this  adjective.  She  had  con- 
sidered it  right  that  she  should  help  in  all  her  ma- 
ternal anxiety,  although  the  assistance  given  by  such 
a  woman  could  not  be  of  much  use,  and  her  chatter 
was  intolerable.  But,  on  the  evening  of  the  26th, 
the  acute  delirium  had  ceased,  and  Daniele,  seeing 
his  mother  return  after  a  brief  absence,  became  very 
angry,  and  reproached  her  bitterly  for  leaving  his 
house  uncared  for,  and  coming  where  she  was  not 
wanted  in  the  smallest  degree.  Elena  had  tried  to 
quiet  him,  but  in  vain.  His  excitement  had  in- 
creased to  such  a  pitch  that,  at  last,  the  doctors  had 


THE  POLITICIAN  321 

requested  Signora  Cortis  to  leave  the  room,  and  not 
set  foot  in  it  again  for  some  time  to  come.  She  had 
left  the  room  in  a  fury,  and,  meeting  Elena  just 
outside,  had  attacked  her  with  the  most  bitter  re- 
proaches, accusing  her  of  conspiring  with  the  doc- 
tors, and  of  wishing  to  take  her  son's  heart  from 
her.  As  for  the  doctor  and  one  of  the  officials  who' 
happened  to  come  out  shortly  after,  she  abused  them 
to  such  an  extent  that  she  was  at  last  turned  out  al- 
together, and  she  had  retired  swearing  that  she 
would  apply  for  justice  to  the  president,  the  min- 
isters, nay,  to  the  king  himself. 

Lao,  who  had  lisented  to  the  end  of  his  niece's 
story  with  a  quinine  pill  between  the  thumb  and  fin- 
ger of  his  left  hand,  and  a  glass  of  water  in  his  right 
now  swallowed  the  pill. 

"  And  what  next?  "  he  asked. 

"  She  has  been  here  three  times  yesterday,  and 
this  morning.  Mamma  refuses  to  see  her.  At  the 
Chamber,  orders  were  given  to  the  doorkeepers  not 
to  let  her  pass,  but  I  begged  that  they  might  be  can- 
celled. She  came  yesterday,  and  again  to-day;  but 
she  has  not  been  allowed  in  Daniele's  room,  and  I 
have  not  seen  her.  Now,  I  fully  expect  she  will  as- 
sault me  in  the  street,  and  mamma  is  in  terror." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Lao.  "  She  is  quite  capable  of 
it!  But  let  me  arrange  matters.  Where  does  she 
live?" 

"  Close  by ;  in  the  Piazza  Venezia.  Do  you  know 
her?" 


322  THE  POLITICIAN 

"Don't  I?" 

Lao  raised  his  right  arm,  waved  it  in  the  air,  and 
let  it  swing  again  loosely  from  the  wrist. 

"  Is  there  anything  else?  "  he  asked, 

"  The  worst,"  answered  Elena,  in  a  now  voice, 
with  downcast  eyes. 

"  Let  us  hear  the  worst  then." 

"  My  husband  is  here." 

"  I  thought  as  much ;  I  should  have  been  better 
pleased  to  hear  he  was  with  the  devil." 

Elena  stamped  her  foot  on  the  ground  in  vexa- 
tion. 

"  If  you  talk  like  that  I  will  not  go  on,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  not  say  another  word." 

"  What  nonsense !  "  growled  her  uncle.  "  Go  on ! 
go  on !  " 

"  Listen,  uncle,"  said  Elena,  very  red.  "  Three 
days  ago  I  telegraphed  to  you  on  Daniele's  account, 
but  I  should  have  telegraphed  to  you  for  my  hus- 
band, and  if  you  begin  like  that,  it  will  be  useless  for 
me  to  say  anything  more." 

"  Go  on !  "  cried  the  count. 

But  Elena  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  obstinately 
bent  her  chin  on  her  breast,  and  looked  at  her  hands. 

"  If  you  speak  like  that  I  will  not  tell  you  any- 
thing! "  she  said. 

"  Yes  you  will,"  said  her  uncle,  "  if  I  have  to  say 
'  go  on  '  for  the  next  half-hour." 

Elena  raised  her  face,  looked  at  her  uncle  a  mo- 
ment, then  she  said,  in  a  low  voice, — 

"  It  is  ruin." 


THE  POLITICIAN  323 

"  Go  on,"  said  Lao  undisturbed. 

Elena  forced  herself  to  relate  all  that  she  knew 
of  her  husband's  affairs  down  to  the  meeting  be- 
tween him  and  Cortis  about  the  bank  business. 

"  What  had  Daniele  to  do  with  it?  "  asked  Lao  in 
surprise. 

"  I  believe  he  took  it  up  in  order  to  try  and  help 
my  husband,"  answered  Elena,  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  hates  what  he  has  to  tell. 

"He?" 

"  He.  I  never  intended  it.  I  wrote  to  Clenizzi 
from  Cefalii,  asking  him  to  take  certain  steps  on 
my  husband's  behalf,  relative  to  the  affair  which 
you  know  aboiit.  Clenizzi  was  ill,  and  charged 
Daniele  with  it.     That  is  how  he  came  to  be  brought 


in." 


"  Very  good,"  said  Lao,  half  ironical,  half  re- 
signed. 

"And  what  next?" 

"  Yesterday  Clenizzi  came  to  me  saying  that  he 
felt  it  his  duty  to  tell  me  how  serious  things  were. 
There  is  no  further  question  of  the  debt  to  the  bank ; 
but  there  seems  to  be  a  perfect  storm  coming  of 
debts  of  every  sort  and  kind,  which  cannot  be  kept 
hidden  any  longer.  A  great  scandal  is  imminent. 
Clenizzi  added  something  else." 

"What?" 

"  That  his  appearance  is  alarming." 

Elena's  voice  trembled  as  she  pronounced  these 
words,  and  a  deadly  paleness  came  over  her  face. 
Lao  did  not  understand. 


324  THE  POLITICIAN 

"Alarming?     What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"  Some  extreme  — " 

She  could  not  finish  her  sentence,  because  Lao  in- 
terrupted her  by  waving  his  arms  in  the  air. 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  he  would,"  he  exclaimed;  "  if 
only  he  would  put  a  bullet  through  his  head,  it 
would  be  the  best  thing  he  ever  did  in  his  life !  " 

Elena's  eyes  flashed. 

"  Instead  of  that  we  must  help  him,"  she  said ; 
"  immediately !     And  you  and  I  must  do  it !  " 

She  seized  one  of  her  uncle's  arms  as  she  spoke 
with  the  energy  of  a  madwoman. 

"  Go !  "  said  her  uncle,  rising  and  throwing  oflf 
her  arm.  "  Go  upstairs.  Go  and  call  your  mother, 
and  dress  her  and  don't  bother  me.  Good  heavens ! 
here  I  have  been  travelling  for  eight  or  ten  hours, 
and  you  give  me  no  opportunity  of  washing  and 
changing  my  clothes.  Go  away,  I  tell  you;  go 
away !  " 

"  I  will  go,  uncle,"  said  Elena  resolutely,  "  but 
we  must  help  him." 

He  put  his  arms  round  her,  and  said,  with  affected 
gentleness,  as  he  led  her  toward  the  door, — 

"  Go  away,  now,  dear ;  go  to  your  mother,  and 
wake  her;  don't  worry  me  now,  and  when  I  am 
dressed  I  will  go  upstairs." 

As  he  spoke,  they  reached  the  door. 

She  still  kept  repeating :  "  We  must  help  him, 
we  must  help  him !  " 

She  left  the  room,  but  returned  in  a  moment,  and 
knocked  at  the  door. 


THE  POLITICIAN  325 

"  You  can't  come  in,"  cried  Lao. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Chamber,"  she  said. 
"  Mamma  is  on  the  second  floor  —  No,  39." 

Lao  answered  aloud,  "  All  right,"  and  grumbled 
between  his  teeth, — 

''  Go,  and  be  blessed  thirty-nine  times,  you  stupid 
creature !     Tarquinia  may  go  on  sleeping !  " 

And  he  continued  his  toilet,  continually  exclaim- 
ing, as  he  washed  his  face  or  buttoned  his  vest, — 

"  Pretty  business !  Body  of  Bacchus !  Pretty 
business  altogether !  " 

The  toilet  took  a  very  long  time,  because  Count 
Ladislao  was  as  careful  and  particular  as  a  woman. 
At  last,  however,, it  came  to  an  end,  and  he  went  up 
to  the  second  floor  in  search  of  No,  39. 

A  chambermaid  pointed  it  out  to  him,  and  he 
was  just  going  in  when  he  heard  a  strange  voice. 
He  turned  to  her,  and  asked  whose  room  39  was? 

She  replied, — 

"  Countess  Carre." 

"She  has  somebody  with  her?" 

The  woman  did  not  know ;  she  had  seen  no  one 
go  in. 

"  Hang  it,"  grumbled  the  count ;  then  hearing  the 
voice  of  his  sister-in-law,  he  entered  without  further 
ado. 

Countess  Tarquinia,  her  face  crimson,  was  stand- 
ing in  the  room,  exclaiming, — 

"  I  am  surprised  — " 

Opposite  her  stood  Signora  Cortis,  her  two  black 
eyes   flashing,   and   her   face   very   pale.     She   had 


326  THE  POLITICIAN 

raised  her  arm  against  her  sister-in-law  as  though 
to  ward  off  her  words,  to  beat  them  back  if  possi- 
ble, and  to  get  one  in  herself  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. 

Lao  stopped  in  the  door\yay. 

"  I  am  surprised,"  continued  the  countess,  "  and 
I  am  glad  that  my  brother-in-law  should  hear  what 
I  say.     I  am  surprised  at  your  boldness  — " 

Signora  Cortis,  turning  her  back  upon  her,  went 
towards  Lao, 

"Count  Ladislao,  if  I  am  not  mistaken?"  she 
said  timidly. 

Lao  scarcely  bowed,  as  he  answered,  — 

"  At  your  service." 

"  Oh,  count !  "  she  continued.  "  you  must  re- 
member me,  and  I  remember  that  you  had  a  warm 
heart;  I  appeal  to  you." 

"Tome?" 

Lao  stepped  backwards,  and  opened  the  door, 
saying, — 

"  Then  come  to  my  tribunal." 

The  signora  hesitated  a  moment,  and  seemed  dis- 
turbed. 

"  No,"  she  said ;  "  I  cannot  leave  this  room  with- 
out a  promise." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  said  Lao. 

"  Promise !  "  exclaimed  Countess  Tarquinia  dis- 
dainfully. 

"What  promise?" 

"  Let  us  hear,"  said  the  count.     "  Did  not  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  327 

signora  appeal  to  me?  If  she  will  not  leave  the 
room  I  will  hear  the  case  at  once." 

He  made  a  sign  to  Countess  Tarquinia,  who  van- 
ished hastily  into  her  bedroom,  shutting  the  door 
behind  her.  Signora  Cortis  tried  to  keep  her,  but 
was  too  late. 

"  I  am  not  being  treated  with  common  civility," 
said  she. 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  Count  Lao,  pretending  not  to 
have  heard  her,  "  what  is  this  promise  that  you  re- 
quire? Let  us  sit  down,  if  you  don't  mind,  for  I 
have  travelled  eight  hours  to-day.  I  ~am  rejoiced 
you  have  come  to  life." 

"  It  would  be  toter  if  I  were  dead,"  answered  the 
signora,  in  a  tragic  voice. 

The  count  maintained  a  significant  silence. 
Leaning  back  in  Countess  Tarquinia's  arm-chair, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  one  knee  crossed  over 
the  other,  he  was  swinging  his  foot  and  watching 
the  signora,  who  had  sunk  down  upon  the  sofa  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief. 

"  Merciful  powers !  "  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  as 
if  speaking  to  himself. 

The  signora  raised  her  head,  and  questioned  him 
with  her  eyes. 

"  Oh  nothing,"  he  said.  "  I  was  just  thinking 
of  the  visit  I  paid  you  at  Alessandria  in  1853." 

"  Oh,  Count,"  whimpered  she,  smoothing  out  her 
handkerchief  on  her  knees,  and  watching,  with  bent 
head,  her  unconscious  work.     "  I  have  been  ver}^ 


328  THE  POLITICIAN 

wicked,  but  I  have  also  suffered  much.  If  you  can 
remember  me  as  I  was,  you  will  see  that  in  my  face." 

"  Of  course  I  can  see,"  answered  Lao.  "  And 
now,  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  tell  me 
what  you  want  of  my  sister-in-law." 

"  Tarquinia  has  treated  me  badly.  When  all's 
said  and  done,  if  my  son  forgives  me  who  then  has 
any  right  to  throw  stones?  And  besides,  I  am  not 
at  all  sure  that,  once  upon  a  time,  Tarquinia  did  — " 

"  Hush,"  said  Lao,  frowning,  and  shaking  his 
right  hand,  which  was  extended  towards  her. 
"  Come  to  the  point,"  he  continued. 

"  A  mother !  "  exclaimed  the  signora,  raising  her 
arms,  "  Fancy  treating  a  mother  thus !  Where 
are  the  feelings,  where  is  the  virtue  of  these  peo- 
ple?" 

"  Who  cares  to  know  where  they  are  ?  "  said  the 
count.     "  Have  the  kindness  to  come  to  the  point." 

"  The  Magdalen,"  continued  the  other,  with 
fresh  inspiration,  "  the  Magdalen,  Mary  of  Egypt, 
and  many  others,  have  become  saints." 

"  Pretty  saints,"  murmured  Lao. 

"  But  such  women  as  these  of  to-day  are  without 
charity !  They  treat  in  this  way  a  poor  unfortunate 
creature  who  has  absolutely  nothing  left  to  her  but 
her  son  and  her  God !     How  can  they  ?  " 

"  Look  here,"  said  Lao,  sitting  upright  in  his 
chair,  and  drawing  out  his  watch,  "  I  will  give  you 
one  minute  to  come  to  the  point." 

"  I  am  coming  to  it,"  said  the  signora,  with  a 
sigh. 


THE  POLITICIAN  329 

"  You  were  kinder  to  me  once," 

"  Naturally." 

Her  voice  now  changed  suddenly,  and  from 
whining  became  dry  and  hard. 

"  I  want  you  to  know,"  she  said,  "  that  I  have 
been  driven,  in  violation  of  all  right  and  propriety, 
from  my  son's  sick-room,  and  that  in  that  room 
there  comes  and  goes,  as  mistress,  a  person  — " 

At  this  point  the  signora  probably  saw  something 
terrible  in  Lao's  eyes,  for  she  stopped  and  began 
afresh, — 

"  Another  person,  in  short.  But  that  is  not  all. 
My  son  is  recovering  miraculously  fast;  I  have 
prayed  so  much,  count!  They  ought  to  think  now 
of  moving  him  to  his  own  house,  where  he  would 
be  much  more  comfortable,  poor  dear!  Heaven 
knows  how  much  more  comfortable  he  would  be ! 
Not  at  all.  Do  you  know  what  they  want,  and 
what  they  propose^  They  propose  to  move  him 
straight  into  the  country,  and  not  to  his  own  house 
even  there,  but  to  Passo  di  Rovese,  to  the  Villa 
Carre !  It  is  too  much !  I  oppose  it,  and  will  con- 
tinue to  oppose  it  by  every  means  in  my  power!  " 

"  By  what  means,  my  dear  creature  ?  I  know 
nothing  about  such  matters,  but  it  seems  to  me  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  the  doctors  to 
order  Daniele  to  go  into  the  country  and  have  ab- 
solute rest.  It  seems  to  me  the  most  natural  thins:, 
especially  now  that  the  Chamber  is  closed,  to  leave 
the  sick  man  quiet  until  the  time  comes  for  moving 
him   into   a   sleeping-carriage   on   the   railway.     It 


330  THE  POLITICIAN 

seems  to  me  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that 
his  relations  and  friends  should  prefer  to  have  him 
with  them  rather  than  leave  him  to  mope  in  solitude 
at  Villascura  during  his  convalescence." 

"His  relations?"  exclaimed  Signora  Cortis. 
"His  friends?  And  what  about  his  mother? 
Does  she  count  for  nothing?  Would  not  Daniele 
be  comfortable  at  Villascura  with  his  mother  ?  " 

"  Listen  to  me,"  answered  the  count,  coldjy. 
"  You  have  settled  all  this  very  easily  in  your  own 
mind,  but  as  the  house  in  question  is  the  one  in 
which  his  father  died,  Daniele  might  feel  some 
slight  difficulty.  In  fact,  it  is  clear  to  me  that  he 
does  feel  it;  he  has  mentioned  it  to  me  in  his  let- 
ters. But  he  is  not  a  doll;  he  can  say  now  himself 
wdiere  he  wishes  to  go,  and  with  whom." 

"  That's  all  very  fine !  "  broke  in  the  signora, 
with  intense  bitterness,  "  he  speak  for  himself 
indeed !  When  there  is  at  his  elbow  some  one  who 
talk  to  him  forever  of  Passo  di  Rovese,  and  who 
seeks  to  keep  me  away  from  him  by  every  means. 
And  I  know  why!  There  are  two  reasons.  The 
first  is  that  you  and  my  sister-in-law  could  not  bear 
me  when  poor  Cortis  married  me.  She  thought  he 
w^as  marrying  beneath  him.  Then  there  is  another 
reason,  which  is  not  connected  with  Tarquinia,  and 
which  is  somewhat  more  delicate  that  I  will  only 
mention  if  I  am  pushed  to  extremes,  that  is,  if  I  see 
Daniele  being  carried  off  to  Passo  di  Roverse.  But 
then  I  will  say  it  so  that  even  Daniele  shall  under- 
stand it.     There  will  be  a  scandal,  what  does  that 


THE  POLITICIAN  331 

matter?  but  at  least  we  shall  see  if  Daniele  will  go! 
Are  you  not  afraid  of  a  scandal?  Will  you  prom- 
ise—" 

"What?  What  do  you  mean?"  broke  in  Lao. 
"What  is  this  scandal?  " 

"  In  an  extreme  case,  I  repeat,  in  an  extreme  case 
I  will  tell  you." 

"But  what  extreme  case?"  said  the  count,  his 
eyes  and  forehead  denoting  the  storm  that  was 
brewing.  "  Let  us  suppose  that  the  case  is  extreme 
now.  If  they  have  said  they  will  do  this,  they  will 
do  it  as  sure  as  fate.  You  know  they  won't  wait 
to  ask  your  permission." 

Signora  Cortis^  bit  her  lip,  smiled,  and  said, 
slowly,  with  affected  sweetness, — 

"  And  dear  Elena,  w^ho  so  earnestly  desires  to  do 
this,  will  she  not  ask  leave  of  the  Senator  Di  Santa 
Giulia?" 

Count  Ladislao  tossed  his  head  impetuously,  then, 
half-closing  his  eyes,  he  scrutinised  the  signora  for 
a  moment,  and  finally,  rising  from  his  chair,  pointed 
to  the  door  with  the  forefinger  of  his  outstretched 
left  hand,  saying  with  a  calmness  that  was  threat- 
ening,— 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  leave  the  room." 

"  I  will  go  —  I  will  go !  "  answered  she,  getting 
up.  "  I  will  go,  because  now  I  am  quite  content 
to  do  so.  Of  course  the  senator  will  grant  his  per- 
mission, as  he  is  having  his  debts  paid  by  my  son." 

Count  Lao  was  on  the  point  of  seizing  and  put- 
ting her  out  of  the  room,  when  the  door  opened,  to 


332  THE  POLITICIAN 

admit  Elena,  who,  on  seeing  her  aunt,  remained  for 
an  instant  in  amazement. 

"  Let  her  pass!  "  thundered  the  count. 

Elena  did  not  stir;  she  looked  inquiringly,  first 
at  one,  and  then  the  other. 

"  Elena  is  not  accustomed  to  letting  me  pass,"  re- 
marked the  signora  with  irony. 

"  It  does  not  depend  upon  me,"  answered  she. 
"  I  have  just  come  from  Daniele,  and  I  am  to  tell 
you  that  he  is  asking  for  you." 

The  signora  extended  her  long,  fleshless  arms  and 
skinny  fingers  towards  Elena.  With  her  big  Rem- 
brandt hat  on  the  top  of  her  head,  her  hair  in  dis- 
order, her  pale  face  and  long,  yellowish  neck,  her 
black  cloak  awry  on  her  shoulders,  she  looked  like 
a  Fury  unaccustomed  to  modern  clothes. 

"  He  has  always  wanted  me !  "  she  screamed,  as 
she  left  the  room  with  great  strides. 

Elena  looked  at  her  uncle.  He  was  livid  and 
trembling. 

"  Tell  me  at  once !  "  he  cried.  "  How  much  has 
Cortis  paid  ?  " 

Elena  gazed  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  Uncle !  "  she  said. 

"  How  much  has  Cortis  paid,  I  ask  you  ?  What 
has  he  given  your  husband  ?  " 

Elena  understood  neither  the  question,  nor  the 
angry  voice,  nor  the  furious  countenance. 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  she  answered;  "I 
have  told  you  all  I  know." 

"  What  put  it  into  his  head  to  mix  himself  up 
with  all  these  matters  ?  " 


THE  POLITICIAN  333 

Elena  blushed. 

''Uncle,  uncle!"  she  said.  "Ah!"  she  added, 
with  a  start,  *'  I  do  remember  now  that  he  told  me 
that  he  was  simply  acting"  for  you,  and  doing  what 
you  would  have  done,  as  there  was  no  time  to  ask 
you,  and  you  would  certainly  approve  all  he  had 
done  in  your  place." 

"  But  then  he  should  have  written  to  tell  me !  " 

"  You  are  not  aware,  uncle,"  answered  Elena, 
"  that  Daniele  saw  my  husband  at  noon  on  the  25th, 
just  before  going  to  the  Chamber  ?  " 

"Is  she  gone?"  asked  the  Countess  Tarquinia, 
putting  her  head  through  the  doorway  of  her  room. 
"  Heaven  be  praised !  " 

Lao  took  no  notice  whatever  of  her. 

"  Was  no  one  else  present?  "  he  said. 

"  The  representative  of  the  bank  at  Cefalu,  Bogli- 
etti,  the  lawyer,  was  to  have  been  there,"  answered 
Elena. 

Lao  took  his  hat,  and  said,  with  determination, — 

"  I  am  going  to  him." 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Countess  Tarquinia  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"Will  you  not  go  to  Daniele  first?"  inquired 
Elena,  in  her  turn. 

Count  Lao  replied  hastily, — 

"  No.  If  I  went  to  Daniele  I  should  abuse  him, 
and  that  would  not  do  just  now." 

"  But  tell  me,"  repeated  his  sister-in-law,  "  what 
has  happened? 

Elena  answered  quickly :     "  Nothing,  mamma," 


334  THE  POLITICIAN 

and  added  that  she  too  was  going  out  in  search  of 
her  husband.  Henceforward  Daniele  did  not  need 
her.  Her  uncle  asked  her  if  it  were  a  fact  that  they 
thought  of  moving  him  to  Villa  Carre.  Yes,  and 
the  doctors  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  he 
might  travel  the  next  day,  but  they  did  not  yet  know 
who  could  accompany  him.  She  herself  did  not  in- 
tend to  leave  Rome  without  having  first  done  all  in 
her  power  for  her  husband;  and  she  looked  to  the 
others  to  help  her. 

"  I  am  to  see  him  this  evening,"  she  added. 

"I  know  nothing;  I  want  to  know  nothing," 
cried  her  uncle.  "  I  am  going  to  look  for  this  Sig- 
nor  Boglietti." 

"Boglietti?"  said  the  countess;  "what  is  this 
about  Boglietti  ?  " 

"  I  will  explain  to  you,  mamma,"  said  Elena,  as 
Count  Lao  was  leaving  the  room. 

The  countess  called  him  back. 

"  Come  here,"  she  cried,  extending  her  hand. 
"  Do  you  know  that  we  have  not  greeted  each  other 
yet?" 

"  Ugh !  "  said  Lao,  raising  his  arms  as  if  to  say : 
"  Why  do  you  bother  me  with  such  rubbish  now." 
That  was  his  greeting. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  Elena  inquired  of  her 
mother  how  her  Aunt  Cortis  had  succeeded  in  get- 
ting in. 

"  Allow  me  to  tell  you  that  you  have  a  precious 
donkey  for  an  uncle,"  answered  the  countess. 
"  What  manners !     I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  accus- 


THE  POLITICIAN  335 

tomed  to  them  by  this  time,  but  there  are  some 
things  to  which  one  can  never  accustom  one's  self. 
•  That  woman?  How  should  I  know  how  she  got 
in?  She  stood  before  me  without  my  knowing 
anything  about  it.  Imagine  what  sort  of  person 
she  must  be  to  walk  in  without  asking  anybody.  I 
tell  you  that  if  I  stay  here  three  days  more,  I  shall 
die  of  consumption.  My  dear  child,  for  mercy's 
sake  let  us  take  Daniele  with  us  and  go  away. 
What  are  you  doing?  Are  you  not  going  to  take 
off  your  hat  ?  " 

Elena  put  down  the  parasol  that  she  held  In  her 
hand,  and  let  herself  fall  on  the  sofa. 

"  I  will  rest  a  -  minute,"  she  said,  "  and  then  I 
must  go  out.     I  told  you  I  must." 

"Go  out  again?"  exclaimed  her  mother,  sur- 
prised.    "I  did  not  hear  you.     In  such  a  state?" 

Elena's  face,  and  indeed  her  whole  person, 
showed  signs  of  the  most  profound  distress. 

"  I  am  quite  well,"  she  said,  leaning  her  head 
upon  the  back  of  the  sofa.  "  Will  you  go  with 
Daniele,  mamma  ?  "  she  went  on  in  the  same  weak, 
tired  voice.     "  You  and  Uncle  Lao  ?  " 

"  How,  I  and  your  uncle?     And  you  too?  " 

"  No,  mamma.  You  were  not  listening  just 
now." 

The  countess  could  not  get  over  her  astonishment. 

"  But,  goodness  me !  "  she  cried,  "  what  are  you 
going  to  do  ?  " 

Elena's  hand  was  still  resting  on  the  sofa.  She 
half  closed  her  eyes,  and  replied  almost  inaudibly, — 


336  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Stay  here." 

Then  raising  her  head  and  voice,  she  continued, — 

"  You  know  why  I  came  to  Rome." 

Her  mother  started  in  her  arm-chair,  and  seized 
her  arms  tightly. 

"  For  your  husband  ?  You  mean  to  say  that  you 
are  going  to  stop  in  Rome  for  your  husband's  sake? 
Listen,  Elena.  You  know  how  much  I  once  did  to 
set  matters  straight,  how  much  I  suffered !  You 
must  remember,  at  Passo  di  Rovese!  You  were 
up  in  the  clouds  at  the  time,  and  would  not  conde- 
scend to  occupy  yourself  with  such  matters.  And 
you  know  how  he  has  behaved  to  you  and  to  us. 
One  minute!  You  are  his  wife,  and  you  came  to 
Rome  to  help  him;  for  that  I  praise  and  respect 
you.  I  also  came,  disposed  to  receive  him  kindly, 
and  to  do  anything  in  my  power  for  him.  But 
now!  now  that  he  behaves  in  this  manner,  that  he 
never  lets  us  see  him,  alive  or  dead,  when  he  acts 
as  if  he  did  not  care  a  straw  for  you,  for  us,  or  for 
anybody,  I  tell  you  plainly,  that  I  think  you  would 
be  foolish  if  you  did  not  leave  him  to  reap  as  he  has 
sown,  since  it  is  his  desire.  And  besides  —  it  is 
hopeless  —  forgive  my  saying  so  —  there  are  debts 
and  debts;  Clenizzi  has  told  me  something  about 
these.  I  ask  you,  how  can  any  one  who  respects 
himself  have  anything  more  to  do  with  such  an  in- 
dividual?" 

Elena  smiled  slightly,  and  said, — 

"  I  never  heard,  when  I  married  him,  that  under 
certain  circumstances   I  could  have   nothing  more 


THE  POLITICIAN  337 

to  do  with  him.  You  see  I  married  him  in  real 
earnest,  mamma." 

Countess  Tarquinia  gazed  at  her  daughter  with- 
out speaking,  then  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
she  burst  into  tears,  repeating  through  her  sobs, — 

"  Foregive  me !     Forgive  me !  " 

Elena  soothed  her  with  caresses,  saying  affection- 
ate nothings.  Her  mother  was  not  to  blame  her- 
self; she  had  been  deceived  too,  that  was  all.  As 
she  spoke,  Elena's  mind  turned  to  that  other  guilty 
mother,  and  to  the  goodness  of  Daniele,  and  she 
redoubled  her  tenderness,  feeling  that  she  was  hard 
and  bad  in  comparison  with  him. 

"  I  must  do  my  whole  duty,"  she  said. 

The  countess  inquired  where  her  uncle  had  gone, 
and  who  that  Boglietti  was.  She  understood  noth- 
ing of  what  had  passed.  Elena  explained  it  to  her 
very  briefly. 

"  And  you,"  added  her  mother,  "  where  are  you 
going?" 

"  To  see  my  husband,"  answered  Elena.  "  He 
does  not  expect  me,  but  I  have  arranged  it  all  with 
his  landlady.  She  told  me  that  he  was  generally 
at  home  soon  after  seven.  I  shall  not  leave  till  I 
have  spoken  to  him." 

"  What  a  beast  he  is  ?  Who  knows  how  he  may 
treat  you !  And  when  are  we  to  leave  here, 
Elena?" 

"  I  don't  know :  it  must  depend  upon  how  Daniele 
is;  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after." 

"  Because,  the  other  day,  after  leaving  you  at  the 


338  THE  POLITICIAN 

Tiberine  museum,  I  saw  in  Noci's  shop  some  lovely 
little  arm-chairs,  I  should  like  to  get  two  of  them  — 
one  for  the  town-house  and  one  for  Passo  di  Rovese. 
I  want  a  tea-service,  too,  for  the  country,  but  I  have 
no  money." 

Elena,  who  was  in  the  act  of  leaning  over  her 
mother  to  kiss  her,  felt  her  affection  freeze  within 
her,  and  she  stood  there  a  moment  as  if  turned  to 
stone. 

"  It  must  be  dinner  time,"  remarked  the  countess, 
"  it  is  half-past  six." 

"  I  must  be  there  at  seven,"  answered  Elena, 
drily. 

"  Good-bye." 

"And  dinner?" 

Elena  made  no  answer;  perhaps  she  did  not  hear 
the  question.  She  had  already  left  the  room,  and, 
as  she  acknowledged  the  chambermaid's  deep 
curtsey,  she  thought  to  herself  that  probably  within 
that  woman's  breast  beat  a  heart  less  vulgar  than 
that  of  Countee  Carre. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

NOCTURNAL   STRUGGLES 

Eleven  o'clock  was  striking  on  that  night  of  the 
28th  of  March,  and  the  moon  was  shining  on  the 
houses  and  deserted  pavements  in  front  of  the 
august  black  mass  of  the  Palazzo  Madama  (the 
Senate),  when  Baron  Di  Santa  Giulia  came  out 
alone.  He  stopped  at  the  door,  and  turned  round  to 
look  at  the  large,  brilliantly-lighted  hall.  The  ob- 
sequious porter  i^an  towards  him,  thinking  that  he 
was  looking  for  something. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  asked  the  baron  roughly. 

"  Have  I  not  even  the  right  to  stand  here  now  ?  " 

The  man  stared  in  surprise. 

"  I  thought  as  much!  "  sneered  Di  Santa  Giulia, 
and,  turning  his  back  upon  him,  he  walked  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  church  of  St.  Louis  of  France. 

He  had  that  evening  resigned  his  position  as 
member  of  the  Senate,  without  a  word  of  preamble 
or  conclusion,  and  had  entrusted  the  sealed  letter 
containing  his  resignation  to  the  president's  sec- 
retary. No  one  had  lately  called  upon  him  to  do 
this ;  it  was  done  of  his  own  free  will ;  and  this 
resolution  to  do  this  was  made  some  time  since, 
with  others  still  more  serious,  as  part  of  the  prepa- 
rations he  had  secretly  made  when  he  found  there 

339 


340  THE  POLITICIAN 

was  no  longer  any  hope  of  saving  himself  from 
utter  ruin.  From  now  on  that  was  hanging  over 
him;  he  saw  now  no  escape  from  the  desperate 
remedies  which  he  had  hitherto  so  desperately  op- 
posed. Now  he  would  rest,  and  let  everything  fall 
to  pieces ;  he  could  do  nothing  else. 

Boglietti  had  written  him  on  the  25th,  informing 
him  of  the  settlement  made  with  Cortis,  and  adding 
that  he  was  now  free  from  any  debt  to  the  bank; 
but  the  baron  had  proudly  sent  back  the  letter, 
swearing  that  he  would  never  accept  the  offers  of 
Signor  Cortis.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  did  not 
sensibly  relieve  his  difficulties.  He  was  deeply  in- 
volved in  many  other  debts,  of  a  no  less  serious 
nature  than  the  one  to  the  bank.  Merely  to  pay 
his  gambling  debts,  and  to  secure  his  reception  in 
the  more  or  less  private  gambling-houses  that  he 
frequented,  he  had  been  forced,  after  trying  all  the 
best-known  money-lenders  in  Rome,  to  lay  hands 
upon  certain  bonds  which  he  held  in  trust  for  a 
minor,  had  pledged  them,  and  turned  them  into 
money.  This  transaction  had  now  come  to  light, 
and  a  prosecution  was  imminent.  Notwithstanding 
all  these  sacrifices,  the  cards  had  swallowed  every- 
thing, and  he  now  found  himself  unable  to  pay  even 
his  gambling  debts.  No  one  would  play  with  him 
any  more;  the  door  to  fortune  was  closed,  that  of 
the  criminal  court  was  open. 

But  in  his  savage  nature,  made  up  of  power  and 
corruption,  the  proud  determination  to  ask  nothing 
of  the  Carres  remained  stronger  than  ever.     Three 


THE  POLITICIAN  341 

hours  before  he  resigned  his  seat,  Boghetti  had  met 
him  in  the  street  and  dragged  him,  against  his  will, 
to  his  office,  alleging  the  necessity  of  speaking  to 
him  at  once.  There  he  had  communicated  to  him 
a  proposition  which  had  just  been  made,  he  would 
not  say  by  whom.  The  lawyer  undertook  to  set- 
tle with  his  creditors,  to  save  his  honour  and  lib- 
erty, and  to  pay  a  sufficient  yearly  allowance,  on 
condition  of  his  emigrating  to  America  for  ever. 
Di  Santa  Giulia,  firm  in  the  idea  that  this  was  a 
plan  of  his  mother-in-law  and  his  wife,  would  not 
even  listen  to  the  attorney  when  he  protested  that 
he  did  not  even  know  Countess  Tarquinia  or  her 
daughter  by  sight,  and  that  the  proposal  came  neither 
from  them  nor  from  Cortis;  he  rushed  furiously 
out  of  the  office,  and  left  Boglietti  calling  after  him 
that  he  would  not  take  "  no  "  for  an  answer,  that 
he  had  better  sleep  on  the  proposal,  and  that  he 
would  wait  upon  him  the  next  morning  again. 

Now  as  he  walked  frowningly  homewards,  his 
head  high  as  usual,  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  playing 
with  the  key  of  the  box  that  contained  his  revolver, 
he  experienced  a  sort  of  gloomy  satisfaction  at  hav- 
ing at  last  dropped  to  the  bottom  of  the  abyss.  He 
was  close  to  a  terrible  exit,  but  one  which  would  set 
him  free  and  be  worthy  of  the  pride  that  mingled 
with  his  debased  nature.  At  least  he  was  out  of 
the  Senate.  That  act  seemed  to  him  to  have  been 
decisive,  and  he  felt  that  he  had  laid  his  coat  by  the 
river's  brink,  as  so  many  do,  before  disappearing 
for  ever  in  its  waters.     That  gloomy  conceit  was 


342  THE  POLITICIAN 

fixed  in  his  mind.  He  saw  in  imagination  so  many- 
things  and  persons  connected  with  him  only  by 
feelings  of  rage  or  anguish.  Yesterday,  nay,  a  few 
hours  back,  he  was  choked  and  oppressed  by  visions 
of  over-due  payments,  accusations,  usurers,  gam- 
bling debts,  bailiffs,  judges;  now  they  all  appeared 
far  away,  and  he  seemed  to  be  alone  in  a  large 
empty  space,  like  the  space  that  a  crowd  leaves 
around  a  corpse.  As  he  crossed  the  Piazza  di  Pie- 
tra,  he  thought  again  with  fury  of  Boglietti  and 
America.  The  Carres,  without  a  doubt!  To  free 
him!  In  America!  Boglietti  was  to  come  to  him 
the  next  morning  for  an  answer,  was  he  ?  "  What 
if,  when  he  came  into  his  room,  he  found  him  on  his 
bed  with  a  ball  through  his  heart?  Curse  those 
proud  people!  What  did  they  think  he  was?  He 
might  have  every  vice  under  the  sun,  but  he  was 
not  a  coward !  He  would  stain  them  with  blood 
and  disgrace,  he  would  have  that  satisfaction  by 
heaven !  He  had  thought  his  wife  better  than  the 
rest  of  them,  even  after  her  treachery  at  Passo  di 
Rovese,  but  now  she  was  cast  in  the  same  mould. 
What  sort  of  a  wife  had  she  been  to  him?  Up- 
right? yes,  except  on  one  or  two  occasions;  hard 
and  cold  as  crystal ;  faithful  to  herself,  not  to  him ! 
That  is  if  she  were  still  faithful !  He  had  received 
an  anonymous  letter  containing  accusations  against 
her  and  Cortis.  At  first  the  Baron  would  not  be- 
lieve them ;  now  he  was  inclined  to.  He  liked 
believing  them,  and  it  pleased  him  to  fancy  that 
high    and    mighty    virtue    sullied.     In    America? 


THE  POLITICIAN  343 

Did  they  want  to  purchase  his  absence?  No,  no; 
his  wife  should  marry  her  man  if  she  pleased,  but 
she  should  bring  him  blood  and  curses  as  her  por- 
tion. 

He  stood  in  the  Corso  and  looked  up  and  down 
as  though  for  the  first  time.  It  was  empty;  two 
long  rows  of  lamps  seemed  to  the  baron  as  if  they 
were  accompanying  a  funeral.  He  thought  to  him- 
self that  he  would  have  no  such  pomps,  and  the 
idea  amused  him. 

Better  to  go  alone,  without  a  lot  of  hypocrites 
behind  him,  who  afterward,  would  only  laugh  and 
chatter,  and  not  care  what  became  of  him.  He 
would  have  no  •  funeral,  and  he  would  go  to  no 
church.  So  be  it.  Neither  God  nor  saint  would 
have  helped  him.  But  at  this  moment  his  pride 
seemed  to  fail  him,  and  a  feeling  of  alarm  came 
over  him;  then  that  too  quickly  disappeared,  and 
the  man  walked  on  without  another  thought. 

He  entered  a  little  cafe  in  the  Via  delle  Muratte, 
a  few  steps  from  his  own  door,  and  knocked  vio- 
lently upon  the  table  to  arouse  the  waiter,  who  had 
fallen  asleep  on  a  bench,  with  his  arms  folded  under 
his  head.  There  was  nobody  in  the  poor  little  place 
except  Di  Santa  Giulia  and  an  old  priest,  with  face 
and  hands  the  colour  of  wax,  who  came  there  everv 
night  just  before  twelve  o'clock  for  a  cup  of  choco- 
late. 

"  Do  you  really  believe,  father,"  asked  the  baron, 
without  any  preface,  "  that  there  is  another 
life?" 


344  THE  POLITICIAN 

The  old  priest  looked  him  straight  in  the  face 
and  answered  quietly, — 

"  No,   signor." 

After  which  he  unfolded  a  dark-blue  handker- 
chief, looked  at  it  all  over,  wiped  his  mouth  with  it, 
folded  it  up  again  carefully,  and  having  replaced  it 
upon  his  knees,  said  in  a  sweet,  gentle  voice, — 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,  I  know  it." 

Nothing  was  audible  save  the  splash  of  the  foun- 
tain of  Trevi.  The  baron  drank  a  glass  of  rum, 
i  and  went  out  without  another  word. 

There  was  a  light  in  his  windows.  Why?  He 
fancied  he  saw,  on  the  dark  balcony,  a  figure  which 
retreated  as  soon  as  he  stopped  at  his  door.  On 
the  staircase  stood  the  landlady,  with  a  candle  in 
her  hand. 

"  Why  is  there  a  light  in  my  room?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  visitor,  Signor  senator.  A  lady  has  been 
waiting  to  see  you  since  seven  o'clock." 

The  baron  thought  at  once  of  his  wife. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  angrily.  "  You  should 
have  said  that  I  was  not  coming  in." 

"  It  is  the  baroness,  Signor  senator." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  as  though  to  say  if  that 
be  the  case  you  have  done  quite  right.  But  his 
accent  and  look  expressed  how  disagreeable  the 
visit  was  to  him.  He  went  to  his  room  with  hasty 
steps,  cursing  between  his  teeth. 

Yes.  she  was  there.  She  stood  erect  and  stately 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  close  to  the  table  on 
which  stood  a  large  unshaded  lamp. 


THE  POLITICIAN  345 

"  You  here !  "  he  said,  stopping  at  the  door. 
"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

In  spite  of  herself,  she  shook  with  nervousness, 
but  after  hesitating  a  moment,  she  said  cahnly, — 

"  Remember  that  I  am  ahve." 

"  I  knew  that  already,"  answered  the  baron,  tak- 
ing off  his  hat  and  throwing  it  on  his  bed. 

Elena  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  so,"  she  answered. 

The  baron  took  off  his  overcoat,  threw  it  also  on 
the  bed,  and  then  closed  the  shutters  of  both  win- 
dows; afterwards  he  removed  his  hat  and  coat 
from  the. bed,  put  them  on  a  chair,  and  began  to 
walk  up  and  dqwn  the  room,  past  his  wife,  who 
neither  spoke  nor  moved.  He  suddenly  stopped  at 
some  little  distance  from  her,  and,  said  in  a  furious 
voice, — 

"  And  now,  what  do  you  want?  " 

She  turned  towards  him,  took  hold  of  the  back 
of  the  chair,  and  answered,  as  she  pulled  it  in  front 
of  her, — 

"  Why  have  you  never  let  me  see  you  ?  Why 
have  you  not  answered  one  of  my  letters  ?  " 

Her  voice  was  low,  very  quiet,  almost  affection- 
ate. 

"  To  please  you,"  he  answered.  "  Thank  me. 
Was  not  that  what  yoit  wished?" 

Elena  swallowed  her  contempt  with  difficulty. 
She  raised  herself  from  the  back  of  the  chair  upon 
which  she  had  been  leaning,  and  said  with  se- 
verity,— 


346  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  That  is  no  answer." 

Her  husband  crossed  his  arms  over  his  breast. 

"Are  you  getting  angry?"  he  asked.  "Was  it 
not  enough  for  you  that  I  wrote  to  you  giving  you 
leave  to  come  when  you  pleased,  with  whom  you 
pleased?  and  have  you  not  taken  advantage  of  it? 
do  you  find  fault  with  me  for  not  having  come  to 
kiss  your  mother's  hand?  Don't  break  that  chair. 
It  does  not  belong  to  me." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  answered  Elena  gently, 
putting  down  the  chair. 

She  had  come  with  the  firm  intention  of  being 
as  humble  and  affectionate  as  possible,  of  putting 
up  with  all  the  indignities  she  foresaw  she  would 
receive  at  the  hands  of  the  man  whom  she  wanted 
to  save  from  ruin;  and  now  she  was  ashamed  of 
herself  for  having  failed  at  the  very  beginning. 

"  I  would  once  more  beg  you  to  believe,"  she 
continued,  "  that  you  are  wrong  to  be  angry  with 
mamma.  If  any  one  was  at  fault  that  time  at  Passo 
di  Rovese,  it  was  I.  I  have  told  you  so  many 
times.  Carmine,  and  I  have  begged  your  forgive- 
ness. I  did  not  mean  to  do  any  harm  but  I  will  beg 
your  forgiveness  again,  if  you  wish.  If  you  will 
not  believe  me,  I  cannot  help  it.  Remember  that, 
out  of  respect  for  your  wishes,  I  allowed  my  mother 
to  lodge  at  the  inn  at  Cefalu;  and  it  hurt  me  the 
more  to  do  it  because  I  know  that  the  poor  thing 
is  not  to  blame  in  the  slightest  degree.  Yes,  I  did 
come  to  Rome  with  her,  but  I  wrote  and  told  you 
why  I  had  done  so :  to  be  of  use  to  you !     Mamma 


THE  POLITICIAN  347 

had  taken  it  into  her  head  that  she  would  carry  me 
off  into  Veneto,  and  I  wrote  and  told  you  so ;  but  I 
always  told  her  that  if  I  moved  from  Cefalu  it 
would  be  to  come  to  Rome,  to  help  you  to  the  best 
of  my  power." 

"  All  very  fine,"  broke  in  the  baron.  "  And  then 
followed  this  miraculous  combination  of  circum- 
stances :  the  Chamber  met,  and  the  reverend  Signor 
Cortis  not  knowing  how  the  deuce  he  should  finish 
a  speech,  managed,  by  the  help  of  the  saints,  to 
have  a  fainting  fit;  and  then,  by  the  most  extraor- 
dinary chance,  you,  who  had  come  to  Rome  to 
help  me  went  and  looked  after  him  night  and  day, 
etc.,  etc.     Is  not  ,that  so?" 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Elena  frowning. 

"  You  know  very  well  what  I  mean,"  answered 
the  other.  He  took  some  letters  out  of  his  pocket, 
and,  going  to  the  lamp,  chose  one,  which  he  flung 
on  the  table.     "  For  you,"  he  said. 

Elena's  heart  beat  in  spite  of  herself  as  she  took 
the  letter.  Things  buried  in  her  own  heart  might 
be  written  in  it.  She  hastened  to  look  at  the  signa- 
ture ;  there  was  none.  Then  she  glanced  at  the 
short  note  in  which  she  was  anonymously  accused  of 
trying  to  win  Cortis,  so  as  to  make  him  her  lover. 
She  recognised  the  handwriting  of  her  aunt. 

"I  know  who  it  is  from,"  she  said  coldly;  "I 
recognise  the  writing.     And  do  you  believe  this?" 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  answered  the  baron 
surlily.  "Who  is  it  from?  I  seem  to  recognise 
the  wn-iting  too." 


348  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  You  don't  believe  it !  "  exclaimed  Elena.  There 
was  so  much  fire  in  her  eyes  and  so  much  pride  on 
the  brow  raised  towards  him,  that  her  husband  was 
dumb  for  an  instant. 

"  And  what  if  I  did  believe  it  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 
"  In  any  case,  if,  as  I  hope,  we  never  see  each  other 
again,  you  may  tell  your  cousin  to  respect  my  name, 
for  it  is  a  mere  chance  that  I  am  not  his  father.  It 
simply  depended  upon  my  having  known  Signora 
Cortis  four  or  five  years  earlier." 

Elena  started. 

"  It's  perfectly  true,"  continued  the  baron.  "  Tell 
him  that  wlien  I  was  quartered  at  Alessandria  I 
knew  his  mother  very  intimately." 

"  You  ?  "  exclaimed  Elena. 

"Yes,  I.  Do  you  know  the  story?  It  was  I, 
and  not  the  artillery  officer.  Go  and  tell  that  to 
your  sanctified  cousin.  Let  him  know  it!  What 
do  I  care?  Nothing  matters  to  me  now.  And 
besides,  it's  only  justice.  Tell  him  for  me,  if  his 
mother  has  not  told  him  already ;  as  I  hear  that  the 
witch  has  reappeared  from  hell.  Certainly  she  had 
not  told  him  the  other  day." 

Elena  hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  She  was  so 
stunned,  that  she  felt  a  dumb  horror,  an  agonised 
longing  to  go  far  away ;  but  the  power  to  resist  that 
longing  rose  somewhere  in  the  secret  depths  of  her 
soul. 

"  Ho,  ho !  what  an  impression !  "  said  the  baron, 
with  an  ironical  drawl  in  his  tone.  "  We  are  weep- 
ing !     Poor  cousin !  " 


THE  POLITICIAN  349 

"  I  am  not  weeping,"  answered  Elena  proudly, 
uncovering  and  raising  her  face.  With  her  left 
hand  she  .pushed  the  hair  off  her  forehead,  and 
looked  straight  at  her  husband.  "  I  am  suffering, 
but  I  am  not  weeping." 

The  baron's  face  contracted,  a  deep  roar  issued 
from  his  mouth. 

"  And  am  I  not  to  believe  that  he  is  your  lover?  " 

Elena  did  not  move  or  flinch.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  her  figure  like  stone,  as  she  answered,  in  a 
low  voice, — 

"  No,  it  is  not  true." 

They  remained  thus  for  a  minute,  looking  straight 
at  each  other,  motionless.  Di  Santa  Giulia  sud- 
denly broke  out  into  a  storm  of  gestures  and  words. 

"  I  am  at  liberty  to  believe  that  it  is  true ;  I  am 
at  liberty  to  tell  you  that  I  do  believe  it,  and  I 
choose  to  tell  you  so.  And  now  go;  go  where  you 
like,  with  whom  you  like !  Go,  I  say !  I  have  bet- 
ter friends  than  you  in  this  room ;  friends  who  can 
be  of  more  use  to  me  than  you  can,  who  can  free 
me  in  a  minute  from  you,  from  — " 

Here  followed  a  string  of  imprecations  and  curses 
against  everything  and  everybody. 

Elena,  meanwhile,  had  recovered  her  self-con- 
trol. 

"I  will  go,"  she  said;  "but  not  before  I  have 
done  my  duty." 

A  violent  trembling  came  over  her,  and  rendered 
her  incapable  of  proceeding.  She  was  obliged  to 
sit  down,  and  wait  till  she  grew  calmer. 


350  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  promised,"  she  went  on  at  last,  "  to  be  faith- 
ful to  you;  and,  whatever  you  say,  whatever  you 
think,  faithful  I  will  be  to  the  end.  You  wrote 
sinister  words  to  me  at  Cefalu,  and  now  you  repeat 
them  to  me."  She  stopped ;  unable  to  speak  much. 
"  I  do  not  know  if  it  is  true  that  your  affairs  are 
in  so  bad  a  state,"  she  said,  "  and  that  you  have  a 
dreadful  deed  in  mind  —  but  I  am  here  to  do  every- 
thing in  my  power  to  help  you.  I  will  work,  give 
lessons,  suffer  hunger !  " 

*'  Never  mind  heroics ;  they're  not  needed," 
sneered  the  baron.  "  Am  I  not  going  to  Amer- 
ica?" 

"To  America?"  exclaimed  Elena,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

■"  Don't  play  the  hypocrite !  As  if  you  didn't 
know  that !  " 

She  started;  no  greater  insult  than  that  could 
be  offered  to  her.  She  bit  her  lip  and  restrained 
herself,  however,  saying  only, — 

"As  if  I  didn't  know  what?" 

"  That  your  people  have  offered  to  pay  my  debts 
on  condition  that  I  take  myself  off  to  America. 
They  offer  me  money  and  liberty  on  condition  that 
I  die  a  long  way  off.  They  think  their  honor  is 
sufficiently  tarnished,  and  that  they  have  disgrace 
enough  upon  them  now,  I  suppose!  But  they  are 
mistaken ;  neither  payment  nor  America !  " 

Elena  started  to  her  feet. 

"  It  is  not  true !  "  she  said. 


THE  POLITICIAN    "  351 

"What  is  not  true?"  cried  the  baron.  '^' There 
is  no  other  scoundrel  in  the  world  who  could  have 
the  smallest  reason  for  making  me  such  a  proposal. 
And  you,"  he  continued,  in  a  tone  of  ironical  kind- 
ness, "  have  you  not  come  to  sound  me,  to  try 
through  kindness  to  discover  whether  I  will  accept 
or  reject  the  proposal  that  has  been  made  to  me." 

"  But  I  tell  you  it  is  not  true,"  protested  Elena. 
"  I  tell  you  that  my  mother  and  I  are  quite  unable 
to  pay  your  debts,  and  that  my  uncle  absolutely  re- 
fuses to  do  it !  " 

In  her  surprise,  she  spoke  in  such  a  tone  of  sin- 
cerity that  the  baron  was  shaken  for  a  minute,  and 
was  silent.  ' 

"  Indeed !  "  he  exclaimed  presently,  returning  to 
his  original  conviction.  "  It  is  so !  How  is  it  pos- 
sible that  it  should  be  otherwise  ?  " 

Elena  was  in  despair. 

"  Heavens !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  what  can  I  say 
or  do  to  convince  you?  " 

The  baron  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  Should  you  be  glad,"  he  asked,  "  if  I  accepted 
this  offer  and  went  to  America?  " 

Glad?  She  thought  that  did  she  but  love  him 
she  would  willingly  have  died  with  him. 

"Glad?  No,"  she  answered.  "I  should  be 
glad  if  all  this  could  turn  out  to  be  a  bad  dream; 
but  — " 

She  did  not  know  how  to  express-  that  a  great 
weight  would  be  taken  off  her  mind.    She  had  such  a 


352  THE  POLITICIAN 

fear  of  not  doing,  of  not  knowing  how  to  do,  every- 
thing in  her  power  to  prevent  the  accident  that 
would  set  her  free. 

"Well,  but?"  exclaimed  her  husband.  "Listen 
to  me,  faithful  wife,"  he  added  slowly,  looking  her 
straight  in  the  face.  "  If  I  go,  will  you  come  with 
me?" 

Elena  received  this  blow  without  flinching.  It 
was  a  terrible,  an  unexpected  blow  —  a  terrible  and 
unexpected  manner  of  putting  her  words  to  the 
proof.  She  did  not  flinch,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
she  made  no  reply.  She  felt  like  the  soldier  called 
upon  to  die,  who  goes  out  to  meet  death  gravely, 
silently,  but  with  beating  heart. 

"  Ah,  you  are  silent !  "  said  the  baron. 

"  Have  you  already  said  that  you  would  not 
accept  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes ;  but  they  are  coming  to  me  to-morrow 
morning  for  a  definite  answer." 

"  And  if  I  go  with  you,  will  you  accept?  " 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  he  exclaimed,  half  amazed 
and  half  perplexed,  "  if  you  come,  I  shall  begin  not 
to  understand  it  at  all." 

"  Will  you  accept,  then  ?  " 

"  Perhaps." 

"  No,  no !  "  exclaimed  Elena,  with  determina- 
tion. "  You  must  promise  me  that,  if  I  come  with 
you,  you  will  accept." 

The  baron  threw  himself  on  the  sofa. 

"  I  will  think  about  it,"  he  said. 


THE  POLITICIAN  353 

But  Elena  would  not  allow  any  uncertainty,  and 
insisted.  But  her  husband  could  not  believe  that 
the  Carres  would  allow  her  to  expatriate  herself. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  you  will  really  come,  I 
will  accept." 

Fully  convinced  that  the  offer  originated  with 
the  Carres,  he  felt  equally  certain  that  it  would 
come  to  nothing  in  consequence  of  that  condition. 

Then  Elena  asked  him  whether,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, he  would  accept  an  offer  from  her  fam- 
ily made  without  condition  of  going  to  America. 
He  answered  with  a  "  Never !  "  full  of  pride  and 
indignation,  wondering  whether,  after  all,  Boglietti 
had  not  been  instructed  by  the  Carres. 

"  I  will  come,"  she  said. 

The  baron  looked  at  her,  brought  down  his  open 
hand  on  the  back  of  the  sofa,  and  said, — 

"  Very  good  !  " 

Then  he  went  to  his  chest  of  drawers,  pulled  out 
his  revolver,  and  laid  it  on  the  table  near  the  lamp. 

"  This  is  the  friend  who  would  have  helped  me," 
he  said.  "  I  swear  to  you  that  I  would  have  killed 
myself  a  hundred  times  over  before  accepting  any 
help  from  your  people." 

Elena  took  up  the  revolver. 

"  It  is  loaded,"  said  her  husband. 

She  continued  to  hold  it  nevertheless,  and  ap- 
peared to  study  it  carefully.  Her  hands  shook,  and 
her  lips  were  drawn  and  set.  She  did  not  really 
see  that   little   shining  barrel.     She   saw   only  the 


354  THE  POLITICIAN 

man  she  loved  dearly,  by  whom  she  knew  herself 
loved ;  she  saw  him  at  the  moment  of  their  last  fare- 
well, and  knew  the  angiiish  it  would  cause  him. 

"It  is  the  one  you  gave  me  when  we  were  en- 
gaged," said  her  husband. 

Elena  replaced  the  revolver  on  the  table,  and 
looked  at  it  again,  until  she  had  succeeded  in  chok- 
ing back  the  tears. 

"  And  now,"  she  asked  gently. 

"  Now,"  answered  the  baron,  "  I  will  accept. 
They  may  settle  my  affairs.  It  will  take  some  little 
time,  as  I  don't  know  all  my  debts, myself.  After 
that,  we  will  go." 

Elena  had  not  strength  to  inquire  how  and  when. 

"  I  think  I  am  a  great  fool  to  believe  that  you 
will  come!  "  he  suddenly  exclaimed. 

She  rose  with  disdain,  and  prepared  to  return 
to  the  hotel. 

"  No,  no ;  I  believe  you,"  he  said  soothingly. 
"  What  a  hurry  you  are  in !  Stay  a  little  longer. 
Be  pleasant  to  me." 

Elena  wished  to  go  at  once.  Her  husband  of- 
fered roughly  to  accompany  her,  and  the  landlady, 
who  had  had  an  ear  at  the  keyhole  all  the  time, 
offered  her  own  bedroom  for  the  night ;  it  was 
quite  ready,  close  by.  Elena  refused  with  such 
vehemence  that  the  woman  apologised  for  the  sug- 
gestion. 

"  Let  her  do  as  she  pleases,"  said  the  baron. 
"  Between  this  and  the  Minerva  the  streets  are 
.quite  safe,  and  my  wife  is  afraid  of  nothing." 


THE  POLITICIAN  355 

The  landlady  lighted  Elena  as  far  as  the  street, 
saying  that  she  had  hoped  she  would  stop.  The 
senator  troubled  her!  He  had  so  many  worries. 
He  said  such  things! 

Elena  answered  with  a  nod  of  thanks  and  went 
out,  walking  slowly  through  the  dark  streets,  with- 
out knowing  very  well  where  she  was  going;  she 
let  her  instinct  guide  her,  feeling  nothing  but  a 
dead  pain  at  her  heart,  and  the  most  intense  mental 
fatigue.  As  she  passed  the  rare  gas-lamps,  she 
watched  their  flames  flickering,  quivering,  and  dis- 
appearing above  her  head  when  she  walked  beneath 
them.  Little  by  little  a  strange  idea  took  posses- 
sion of  her;  she  fancied  that  she  had  lost  her  way 
in  an  immense  unknown  city.  Suddenly  her  in- 
stinct failed  her.  She  did  not  know  which  road 
to  take ;  and  she  had  to  stop  and  collect  her  thoughts. 
Looking  around  carefully  she  saw  that  she  had 
reached  the  corner  of  the  Via  dei  Pastini,  and  has- 
tening forward,  she  entered  the  Minerva  a  minute 
later. 

A  waiter  had  orders  to  tell  her  that  her  uncle 
was  waiting  for  her  in  his  room,  and  that  she  was 
to  go  straight  to  him,  no  matter  at  what  time  she 
came  in.  Now  she  must  hide  this  new  suffering! 
She  did  not  think  she  could  do  it,  and  she  was  on 
the  point  of  telling  the  waiter,  who  was  leading 
the  way,  that  she  would  let  the  count  sleep,  as  it 
was  now  so  late ;  but  she  did  not  say  it  and  the 
man  knocked  at  the  door,  showed  her  in,  put  down 
the  candle  and  withdrew.  . 


356  THE  POLITICIAN 

Count  Lao  was  in  bed,  reading.  He  threw  down 
his  book,  and,  raising  his  head  from  the  pillow, 
turned  to  gaze  at  his  niece. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said,  "  I  thought  you  were  never  com- 
ing." 

Elena  did  not  approach  the  bed,  and  merely  an- 
swered that  she  was  very  tired  and  sleepy.  The 
count  watched  her  silently. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said,  with  some  hesitation. 

Her  uncle  did  not  answer  immediately,  then,  with 
an  imperious  movement  of  his  head,  he  said, — 

"  Come  here." 

She  took  two  steps  towards  him,  very  slowly, 
then  stopped,  and  whispered, — 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  Sit  down  there,"  he  said. 

Elena  begged  him  to  let  her  go,  again  pleading 
her  fatigue  and  want  of  sleep. 

"  Sleep !  Nonsense,"  returned  her  inexorable 
uncle ;  "  you  can  sleep  to-morrow.  Take  that  chair, 
sit  down,  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

She  did  not  obey  even  now.  She  had  been 
glad  to  come  and  bid  him  good-night,  but  they 
must  think  a  little  of  the  people  of  the  hotel,  and 
not  keep  them  up. 

"You  goose!"  exclaimed  her  uncle.  "Come, 
don't  worry  me  any  more." 

Elena  found  it  was  useless  to  attempt  further  re- 
sistance. She  seated  herself  near  the  bed,  avoid- 
ing, as  far  as  possible,  the  light  of  the  candle  upon 
her  face. 


THE  POLITICIAN  357 

"So,"  he  said;  "you  have  been  with  your  lius- 
band?" 

"  Yes." 

"How  is  he?" 

Elena  made  no  answer. 

"  Is  he  ahve  or  dead  ?  " 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands,  then  suddenly  throwing  herself  on 
her  knees  beside  her  uncle's  bed,  she  seized  one  of 
his  hands. 

"Uncle,  uncle!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden 
outburst  of  passion,  "  we  must  save  him,  and  never 
let  him  know  it  was  we  who  did  it !  " 

This  time  her  uncle  did  not  lose  his  temper. 

"Save  him,  do  you  say?"  he  returned  smiling. 
"  Save  him  ?  That's  more  easily  said  than  done. 
A  fine  piece  of  goods  to  save!  If  you  like  to  save 
him,  do  so ;  you  are  quite  welcome ;  I  certainly  will 
not  throw  away  mj  money  upon  him.  Get  up,  get 
up!" 

He  spoke  with  the  greatest  gentleness,  and,  when 
he  had  finished  speaking,  he  kissed  Elena's  hair 
lightly. 

"  If  only  I  could  do  it'!  "  she  said  despondingly. 
"If  only  I  could  save  him!  I  should  be  doing  a 
good  deed !     I  know  it ;  indeed,  I  do !  " 

It  was  a  bitter  moment !  Count  Lao  had  not 
thought  that  his  words  would  sound  so  harsh. 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  have  not  the 
means,"  added  Elena,  rising. 

"  Come,  come,"  he  said,  "  such  scoundrels  as  he 


358  THE  POLITICIAN 

never  go  to  the  bottom.  They  always  find  some- 
body to  pull  them  out.  He  won't  kill  himself, 
never  fear.     I  would  bet  that  he  falls  on  his  feet." 

A  sudden  ray  darted  into  Elena's  eyes. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  it?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  ?      No.      I  know  nothing.      What  should  I 
know." 

"  Because,   as   a   matter   of   fact,    somebody  has 
been  offering  to  pay  his  debts." 

"  There  you  are !  "  exclaimed  the  count.     "  I  told 
you  so.     And  what  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  There  is  a  condition  attached  to  the  offer,  you 
know. 

.  The  count  lost  his  patience,  and  declared  that  he 
knew  nothing  in  the  world  about  it. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Elena,  "  there  is  a  condition, 
which  is  that  he  should  go  to  America  for  ever." 

Lao  said  nothing,  and  showed  no  further  curi- 
osity in  the  matter. 

"  He  accepts,"  she  went  on,  after  a  short  pause. 
"He  will  go." 

Lao  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  muttered, — 

"  So  much  the  better." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  short  space. 

"  Well  then,"  he  said  at  last,  "  why  make  your- 
self miserable?  I  can't  make  it  all  out.  Do  you 
think  it  would  be  more  respectable  for  him  to  go  to 
prison?  What  better  could  he  do?  Upon  my 
word,  I  don't  understand  you." 

Elena  rose  from  her  chair  without  a  word,  ap- 
proached  the   chest   of  drawers  where   the  candle 


THE  POLITICIAN  359 

stood,  took  it  up  and  studied  it  for  a  moment,  then, 
replacing  it,  she  turned  slowly  round,  and  placing 
both  her  hands  on  the  bed,  leaned  forward  as  thouglr 
to  kiss  her  uncle.  Instead  she  stooped  down  to  his 
ear,  and  whispered, — 

"  And  what  if  I  were  to  go  too?  " 

He  burst  into  a  loud,  ironical  laugh. 

"  I  am  not  joking,  uncle.  Indeed  I  am  not," 
she  said. 

Then  her  uncle,  who  had  been  lying  on  his  side, 
turned  over  on  his  back. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth?  "  he  exclaimed,  seizing  one 
of  her  arms ;  "  would  you  really  serve  me  this  bad 
turn?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  my  duty,  uncle." 

"  Duty !  rubbish !  Who  ever  heard  that  it  was 
the  duty  of  the  wife  of  a  scoundrel  to  accompany 
her  husband  to  America?  Have  the  goodness  to 
go  to  bed.     Go,  I  say,  go !  " 

Elena  was  surprised  to  find  that  her  uncle  re- 
ceived her  news  with  such  tranquillity. 

"  I  am  really  going,"  she  said. 

"  That  will  do !  "  exclaimed  the  count.  "  Have 
done.  The  condition  is  that  he  should  go  alone. 
That  is  understood,  of  course." 

"  No,  it  is  not,  uncle." 

"  Yes,  yes !  alone ;  absolutely  alone !  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  uncle." 

"  I  tell  you  it  is !  "  exclaimed  Lao,  beside  him- 
self. "  Who  should  know  better  than  I  ?  Who  is 
the  ass  that  is  paying,  if  it  be  not  I  ?  " 


36o  THE  POLITICIAN 

Elena  could  scarcely  draw  a  breath ;  all  the  blood 
in  her  body  seemed  to  rush  to  her  heart.  She 
looked  at  her  uncle  with  staring  eyes,  clasping  her 
hands  over  her  breast,  unable  to  speak.  She  had 
fancied  that  the  offer  was  from  Clenizzi,  acting  for 
the  president  of  the  Senate,  instructed  by  the  gov- 
ernment. 

"  I  cannot  have  explained  myself  clearly  enough," 
said  the  count.  "  I'  cannot  have  explained  myself 
properly  to  that  fool  of  a  lawyer,  but  I  will  see  to  it. 
Nothing  is  settled  yet.  Wait  till  all  the  terms  of 
the  treaty  are  drawn  up  properly." 

Elena  threw  her  arms  round  her  uncle  in  a  sud- 
den frenzy  of  affection  and  fear.  She  kissed  him 
over  and  over  again. 

"No,  no,  no!"  she  said  excitedly,  "I  am  not 
going ;  don't  say  any  more  about  it !  Thank  you ;  oh, 
thank  you.  I  said  it  to  see  if  you  would  move  in 
the  matter,  if  you  would  try  to  save  him,  if  you 
would  prevent  his  going  to  America.  I  have  been 
stupid  and  unjust,  uncle !  He  will  go  alone,  you 
know,  quite  alone.  Never  mind  anything  else  now. 
Thank  you,  uncle !  " 

And  she  kissed  him  again,  caressing  him  passion- 
ately, smiling  at  him  with  a  deadly  pain  at  her 
heart.  Should  she  betray  herself,  or  fail  for  one 
moment  in  the  part  she  had  undertaken,  she  might 
be  the  means  of  killing  her  husband  and  remaining 
free. 

That  thought  was  terrible  to  her. 

"  I  suppose  I  did  not  make  it  clear  to  the  lawyer 


THE  POLITICIAN  361 

that  I  meant  him  to  go  alone,"  grumbled  Lao.  "  He 
might  have  guessed  that  I  meant  that.  My  head 
was  in  such  a  whirl,  what  with  my  journey  and 
that  Cortis  woman,  and  — " 

"  No,  indeed !  "  broke  in  Elena.  "  He  did  tell 
him;  he  will  go  alone.     I  said  it  on  purpose." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  exclaimed  Lao.  "  If  there  were 
anyone  else  to  pay  his  debts,  would  it  be  worth  our 
while  to  do  it  for  the  sake  of  sending  him  to  Amer- 
ica? Clenizzi  has  told  you  of  the  scandals  that 
are  impending;  a  question  for  the  criminal  court, 
you  know.  A  remedy  can  be  found  for  that;  but 
do  you  think  he  can  stay  in  Italy?  Do  you  think 
he  can  continue  to  hold  his  seat  in  the  Senate?  " 

*'  No,  no,"  she  said,  jumping  at  the  suggestion. 
"  You  are  right;  I  had  not  thought  of  that.  Yes,  I 
see,  it  is  better  for  him  to  start  right  away.  But 
you  don't  suppose  he  wants  me!  He  was  furious 
with  me  for  going  to  see  him,  and  let  me  walk  home 
by  myself  at  this  time  of  night!  He  can't  bear  the' 
sight  of  me,  nor  indeed  of  any  of  us.  Therefore  I 
do  beg  this  of  you  most  earnestly;  never  let  him 
suspect  that  the  offer  comes  from  you.  Never, 
never !  " 

"  I  told  the  lawyer  not  to  mention  it,"  answered 
the  count ;  "  but  of  course,  he  will  guess." 

"  So  far,  he  has  guessed  nothing ;  he  must  not 
guess  anything,  he  must  be  allowed  to  think  it  comes 
from  the  government." 

"  The  government !  "  ejaculated  Lao,  with  an  in- 
credulous smile.     "  Do  you  know,"  he  continued. 


362 


THE  POLITICIAN 


after  a  short  silence,  "it  occurred  to  me  that  with 
your  stupid  heroism  you  might  play  me  the  trick 
of  going  with  him ;  but  it  may  be  that  I  did  not 
mention  that  to  the  lawyer." 

He  reverted  to  the  explicit  understanding  which 
should  be  imposed  upon  the  Baron  Di  Santa  Giulia, 
and  Elena  once  more  implored  him  to  be  silent. 

"Well,  w^ell!"  answered  Lao.  "we  will  see. 
Meanwhile,  you  must  leave  Rome  at  once." 

"  Yes,  uncle ;  anything  you  like ;  as  soon  as  you 
like." 

"  Daniele,"  he  continued,  "  is  now,  I  believe,  well 
enough  to  travel.  You  and  your  mother  will  ac- 
company him  to  Passo  di  Rovese." 

Elena's  heart  leaped  in  her  bosom.  What  pleas- 
ure, what  pain,  what  burning  fire!  She  w^ould 
have  liked  to  refuse,  to  escape  this  bitter  trial;  she 
could  not. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  leaning  over  her  uncle 
and  kissing  his  forehead  hastily,  "  anything  you 
like.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  answered  Lao.  "  You  are  full 
of  attentions  for  your  husband,  and  you  never  give 
a  thought  to  me,  who  am  half  dead  on  your  account. 
There  Is  not  an  inch  of  my  body  w^hich  is  not  hurt- 
ing me  at  this  moment.  But  w^hat  does  it  signify 
if  I  die !  He  is  the  only  person  who  matters !  It's 
all  very  fine;  you  may  say  what  you  like,  but  it  is 
so.  I  must  be  content  to  be  a  dummy.  Good- 
night ;  shut  the  door  carefully." 

Countess  Tarquinia  was  asleep. 


THE  POLITICIAN  363 

Elena  went  straight  to  her  own  room,  and,  placing- 
the  candle  on  the  table,  sat  down  in  the  armchair 
near  the  bed.  She  still  felt  that  pain  at  her  heart, 
that  heaviness  in  her  head;  even  worse  now  than 
before.  She  watched  the  flame  of  the  candle  as  it 
flickered  and  quivered  like  the  lamps  in  the  street, 
and  in  her  heart  she  felt  a  load  of  tears  that  could 
not  struggle  to  the  surface.  'She  did  not  undress, 
she  did  not  move.  A  mist  every  now  and  then 
passed  between  her  and  the  candle,  enlarging  its 
flame  immoderately;  then  her  heart  beat  with  vio- 
lence, and  she  fancied  the  tears  were  coming,  but 
they  never  rose,  and  the  candle  resumed  its  bright- 
ness. ., 

Towards  morning  she  laid  her  head  upon  the  un- 
touched bed,  and,  falling  asleep  for  an  instant,  saw 
herself  in  a  dream  at  Passo  di  Rovese.  She  thought 
she  was  going  to  bid  a  last  farewell  to  the  old  fir- 
trees.  And  lo!  the  oldest  and  dearest  of  them  all, 
the  large,  sad  fir-tree,  which  seemed  tired  out  by 
its  age,  had  yielded  to  destiny,  ^nd  lay  prone, 
thrown  down  by  the  tempest.  At  this  sight  she 
wept  in  her  sleep;  and  awoke,  to  find  the  tears  still 
flowing,  relieving  her  as  they  fell.  , 


CHAPTER    XIX 

"  OUGHT  I  TO  GO  ?  " 

Cortis,  who  had  been  threatened  with  congestion 
of  the  brain,  had  recovered  rapidly,  thanks  to  his 
excellent  constitution,  and  thanks  to  the  skill  and 
attention  he  had  received.  He  was  tired  of  re- 
maining at  the  Chamber,  although  he  was  in  no- 
body's way  during  the  parliamentary  recess.  He 
longed  for  his  mountains,  and  his  doctors  ordered 
him  absolute  rest,  fresh  air,  as  speedy  a  departure 
as  possible,  and,  what  was  the  most  important, 
freedom  from  the  irritating  proximity  of  Signora 
Cortis.  They  kept  him  where  he  was,  however,  so 
as  to  save  the  useless  risk  of  two  moves  —  one  to 
his  own  house,  and  thence  into  the  country. 

This  threatened  congestion  had  left  behind  it  a 
profound  depression,  a  deep  sadness  which  often 
brought  the  tears  to  his  eyes.  He  had  no  faith 
either  in  the  future  nor  in  himself.  He  fancied 
himself  thrown  out  of  the  political  current,  and 
left  high  and  dry  like  a  wreck.  He  made  anxious 
inquiries  as  to  who  came  to  ask  after  him;  always 
ready  to  imagine  inattentions,  slights,  or  indiffer- 
ence. All  this  caused  Elena  much  pain,  although 
the  doctors  assured  her  that  they  were  ordinary 
and  transitory  symptoms.     She  scolded  him  in  her 

364 


THE  POLITICIAN  365 

gentle  voice,  forbidding  him  to  repeat  such  ugly- 
things.  He  was  so  grateful  to  her,  obeying  her  for 
a  little  time,  then  he  would  begin  again.  He  could 
not  bear  to  be  without  her,  and  begged  her  to  for- 
give him  for  all  the  trouble  he  caused  her,  excusing 
himself  on  the  ground  that  he  had  lost  everything, 
and  that  only  her  friendship  remained  to  him.  He 
wished  her  to  promise  him  to  come  to  Passo  di 
Rovese,  and  to  stay  there  for  a  long  visit.  She 
avoided  as  well  as  she  could  givng  this  promise, 
trying,  at  the  same  time,  not  to  irritate  him  as  she 
had  done  on  the  first  occasion  that  there  had  been 
any  mention  of  it.  Then,  not  knowing  whether  she 
could  come  or  not,,  she  had  referred  to  her  husband. 
Cortis  had  looked  black,  and  had  not  opened  his 
lips  for  an  hour. 

It  had  been  she  who  persuaded  him  to  send  for 
his  mother  on  the  28th,  and  to  speak  to  her  instead 
of  sending  her  a  message,  as  he  had  intended.  The 
latter  went  straight  to  him  from  the  Minerva. 
Cortis  told  her,  very  clearly  and  coldly,  his  inten- 
tion of  starting  for  the  north  of  Italy,  and  his  wish 
that  she  should  remain  in  Rome.  He  spoke  in  a 
manner  that  allowed  of  neither  remark  nor  answer. 
All  the  same,  the  signora  could  not  be  quite  still ; 
she  told  her  son,  in  a  grave,  sad  voice,  that  it  was 
very  difificult,  almost  impossible,  to  believe  that  any 
affection  should  make  up  to  him  for  that  of  his 
mother.  She  added,  as  she  took  leave  of  him,  that 
she  felt  it  her  duty  to  forgive  all  who  had  injured 
her,  even  those  cruel  ones  who  had  deprived  her 


366  THE  POLITICIAN 

of  her  son's  heart.  She  knew  well  whence  the 
blow  came,  and  she  prayed  that  Heaven  would  open 
her  son's  eyes,  and  show  him  the  dangers  attending 
certain  equivocal  friendships.  Her  own  friendships 
were  not  equivocal  now,  in  Rome. 

After  the  signora's  departure,  Cortis's  attendant 
found  him  trembling,  and  in  a  most  excited  state; 
he  feared  a  fresh  attack  of  fever,  and  wanted  to 
send  for  the  doctor,  but  Cortis  angrily  forbade  him, 
desiring  him  instead  to  send  for  the  baroness;  and 
then,  just  as  the  man  was  starting,  he  called  him 
back  hastily,  and  revoked  the  order. 

Later  on,  towards  evening,  the  doctor,  Senator 
Clenizzi,  and  finally  Count  Lao  came   in.     Cortis 
W'as  much  moved  at  sight  of  the  latter.     He  imme- 
diately asked  for  Elena,  and  learned  that  she  had 
gone  to  look  for  her  husband,  and  that  she  would 
probably  not  come  that  evening.     He  then  relapsed 
into    profound    silence.     Meanwhile,    the    doctor, 
complained  to  Lao  of  the  little  rest  the  sick  man, 
for  so  he  still  called  him,  was  allowed,  although  the 
slight  attack  of  congestion  had  been  rapidly  over- 
come.   His  nervous  condition  was  still  very  excitable. 
He  required  absolute  physical  and  moral  rest,  impos- 
sible to  obtain  in  Rome,  under  Cortis's  conditions, 
for  he  suffered  equally  if  he  saw,  or  did  not  see  peo- 
ple.   He  must  have  rest  without  delay,  and  fresh  air; 
for  the  sake  of  such  benefits  he  might  safely  face 
the    fatigues   of   a   long   journey.     Besides,   as   he 
understood  that  the  deputy  owned  a  fine  country- 
house,  with  his  relations  near  him,  to  keep  him  com- 


•      THE  POLITICIAN  367 

pany,  the  best  thing  for  him  was  to  make  the  move 
at  once. 

"  To-morrow  ?  "  asked  Lao,  looking  at  Cortis. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  replied  the  doctor.  "  To-morrow 
be  it." 

Cortis  did  not. speak. 

Then  Lao  described  Passo  di  Rovese  to  the  doctor, 
and  the  life  that  Cortis  would  lead  there,  at  any 
rate  for  some  time ;  until  he  was  absolutely  well, 
Daniele  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  go  to  Villascura, 
but  would  be  kept  a  prisoner  at  Villa  Carre.  As 
he  spoke,  Lao  looked  frequently  at  Cortis,  and  he 
watched  for  signs  of  feeling.  There  were  none. 
Then  he  went  oh  to  speak  of  the  walks  that  the 
patient  could  take  in  his  own  gardens  at  Villascura, 
mentioning  the  woods,  the  hills,  the  lake,  and  the 
fountains.  Cortis,  lying  on  his  side,  with  his  face 
to  the  wall,  did  not  stir;  he  seemed  to  be  asleep. 
Lao  went  on  to  say  that  his  niece  was  in  love  with 
that  garden ;  she  would  centainly  go  there  every 
day.  She  was  so  fond  of  the  fine  trees.  Her 
favourite  was  a  magnificent  plane-tree,  with  a  trunk 
divided  in  two,  which  grew  far  from  the  house,  near 
a  picturesque  path. 

"  A  lime,"  said  Cortis,  without  turning  round. 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  exclaimed  Lao,  "  did  you  speak? 
A  lime,  to  be  sure,  so  it  is." 

Then  Cortis  remarked,  with  a  cunning  that  was 
quite  new  to  him,  that  Elena  would  naturally  re- 
main in  Rome,  that  she  would  not  come  north.  Lao 
protested    against    the    word    "  naturally."     Why 


368  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  naturally  "  ?  She  would  perhaps  come  at  once, 
but,  at  latest,  in  two  or  three  days.  Cortis  would 
see  her  the  next  morning.  Then  they  could  settle 
all  the  arrangements  with  the  doctor,  who,  perhaps, 
would  have  the  kindness  to  come  the  next  morning 
at  his  usual  hour.  Cortis  finally  recovered  his  tem- 
per, so  fully  that  the  doctor  begged  Lao  to  accom- 
pany him  without  talking  any  more,  for  fear  of 
over-exciting  the  patient,  and  causing  him  a  bad 
night. 

The  next  morning,  Lao  appeared  about  nine 
o'clock,  alone,  and  explained  that  Elena  had  come 
in  late,  and  was  tired.  She  would  come,  perhaps, 
about  noon.  For  his  part,  he  would  be  kept  in 
Rome  by  business,  he  did  not  know  how  long;  but 
Elena  and  her  mother  were  ready  to  start  with 
Daniele  immediately.  He  sat  up  in  bed.  Was 
there  not  an  express  to  Florence  at  10.40?  There 
were  nearly  two  hours  yet.  Lao  began  to  laugh, 
and  said, — 

"  Just  look  at  him !     He  is  a  boy !  " 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Cortis,  somewhat  mortified.  "  It 
would  be  impossible  for  the  ladies,  but  I  could  catch 
the  train  if  I  were  alone." 

At  this  moment  the  doctor  arrived,  and,  after  a 
short  debate,  it  was  settled  that,  as  the  least  evil, 
and  to  pacify  Cortis,  they  should  start  that  day  and 
it  was  further  settled  that  they  should  travel  by  the 
night  train  in  a  sleeping-car,  and  that  the  doctor 
should  accompany  them  at  least  as  far  as  Bologna. 

Lao  was  just  going  to  tell  the  ladies,  when  Cortis 


THE  POLITICIAN  '369 

called  him  back  to  beg  him,  with  a  sudden,  inexplica- 
ble earnestness,  to  ask  Elena  to  come  to  him  as  soon 
*as  she  could. 

She  was  scarcely  up  when  she  received  this  mes- 
sage from  her  uncle,  and  she  went  at  once  to  the 
Chamber. 

Cortis  received  her  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and 
asked  her  if  she  knew  that  he  was  starting  that  very 
evening,  and  whether  it  was  really  true  that  she  and 
her  mother  were  prepared  to  travel  with  him. 
Elena  answered  yes,  simply,  without  further  expla- 
nations. He  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  been  re- 
joiced to  hear  this  from  Uncle  Lao,  that  his  happi- 
ness had  driven  everything  out  of  his  mind  till  a 
few  minutes  before,  when  he  was  suddenlv  seized 
by  the  doubt  as  to  whether  he  were  doing  right  or 
not.  He  wanted  to  ask  her  whether  he  ought  not 
to  give  up  this  happiness?  He  gave  her  an  account 
of  his  mother's  visit,  and  repeated  her  last  words 
to  him.  He  added  that,  if  the  world  were  really  so 
malicious,  he  ought  perhaps  in  duty  to  warn  her 
of  it,  and  to  renounce  the  pleasure  of  travelling  with 
her,  and  of  accepting  the  hospitality  of  the  Carres' 
house. 

"  Why?  "  she  asked.  "  On  account  of  the  world? 
What  matters  the  world?  " 

Cortis  made  no  answer,  but,  taking  her  hand, 
raised  it  to  his  lips  and  pressed  it  with  fervour. 
They  exchanged  a  long  look  in  silence.  Her  lips 
trembled  convulsively,  and  her  gaze  had  a.  look  of 
terror.     She  fancied  that  she  was  committing  an 


370  THE  POLITICIAN 

act  resembling  treachery,  seeing  that  Cortis  had  no 
suspicion  of  the  terrible  resolution  she  had  taken, 
or  of  the  mortal  sorrow  in  store  for  him.  Know- 
ing that  she  was  hiding  this  from  him,  who  loved 
her  so  dearly  and  so  nobly,  Elena  felt  herself  car- 
ried towards  him  by  a  wave  of  indescribable  affec- 
tion, remorse,  and  desire  —  by  a  longing  to  confess 
all  to  him,  and  to  weep  on  his  breast.  But  some 
unseen  force  kept  her  back,  perchance  an  unknown 
spirit  from  above. 

"  No,"  she  whispered  gently,  as  she  slowly  with- 
drew her  hand ;  "  the  world  does  not  matter  to  me ; 
but  we  must  be  calm,  we  must  behave  like  old 
friends  of  sixty  years'  standing,  otherwise  I  cannot 
come." 

"  You  may  be  sure  of  me,"  he  said,  in  a  broken 
voice,  looking  like  a  child  caught  in  a  fault.  "  For- 
give me ;  I  am  not  yet  very  strong,  but  I  soon  shall 
be.  To-day  I  seem  less  nervous  than  I  was  yester- 
day." 

She  made  no  answer,  smiling  at  him.  She  longed 
to  tell  him  that  he  was  so  much  better  than  herself, 
that  she  had  felt,  a  moment  before,  so  weak,  so 
much  in  his  power,  had  he  taken  advantage  of  it, 
that  she  did  not  deserve  all  his  dear,  timid  words. 

They  were  both  silent  again  for  a  while.  Cor- 
tis opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  speak,  but  no  sound 
came. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

He  hesitated  before  answering. 

"  Nothing." 


THE  POLITICIAN  371 

But  Elena  understood  that  he  wished  to  speak, 
and  waited. 

At  length  he  murmured,  without  looking  at 
her, — 

"  And  will  he  allow  you  to  start  this  evening 
with  me?  " 

"Ought  I  to  speak  or  write  to  him?"  she  an- 
swered. 

"  In  any  case,  I  am  coming." 

Cortis  begged  her  to  write.  He  feared  a  con- 
versation. One  could  never  tell  what  might  be 
the  result.  Why  should  she  not  write  at  once? 
There  were  pens,  ink,  and  paper.  The  messenger 
could  take  her  ndte. 

"  Ought  I  to  write  from  here  ?  "  she  asked,  still 
uncertain,  and  speaking  to  herself. 

She  decided  to  do  so,  and  seated  herself  at  the 
table.  She  had  in  her  head  all  that  she  wanted  to 
say,  but  she  was  in  doubt  as  to  how  she  should  be- 
gin. How  it  made  her  heart  beat  to  write  there  in 
his  presence.  "  I  thought  your  uncle  looked  well," 
said  Cortis, 

She  made  no  answer,  and  wrote  thus, — 

"  I  start  this  evening  for  Passo  di  Rovese  with 
my  mother  and  Daniele.  I  am  right  in  going  now, 
and  in  such  company;  but,  wherever  I  may  be,  at 
whatever  moment  you  may  require  me,  I  will  keep 
my  promise.  Meanwhile,  do  not  say  a  word  about 
it  to  anybody.  I  wish  to  start  without  their  knowl- 
edge; this  will  save  me  much  useless  sorrow, 

"  When  the  time  comes,  you  have  nothing  to  do 


Z72  THE  POLITICIAN 

but  write  to  me,  and  tell  me  the  date  and  place  of 
departure,  the  name  of  the  boat,  and  all  necessary- 
details  with  the  greatest  precision.  I  should  also 
like  to  start  from  Venice,  which  is  four  hours  only 
from  Passo  di  Rovese.  But  I  fear  no  boats  start 
from  there  to  America." 

Elena  stopped  writing  for  a  moment. 

"  How  long  it  is,"  said  Cortis  gently,  "  since  we 
have  found  ourselves  together  at  Passo  di  Rovese 
in  May!  We  must  read  some  Shakespeare  in  the 
gardens.  Forgive  me,  I  see  I  am  interrupting 
you,"  as  she  made  no  reply,  and  sat  with  her  hand 
over  her  eye's,  buried  in  thought. 

At  this  moment  a  cry,  an  agonised  cry,  burst 
from  her  heart.  "  Ought  I  to  go?  Ought  I  really 
to  go  ?  "  And  her  beating  heart  answered,  "  No, 
no."  What  might  happen  at  Passo  di  Rovese? 
What  if  her  strength  failed  her,  and  she  fell?  It 
had  been  too  easy  to  promise;  it  would  have  been 
easy  to  start  then  and  there,  without  having  time 
to  see  anyone,  w^ithout  having  time  to  think ! 

She  began  to  write  again, — 

"  I  beg  you  to  give  me  as  many  days'  notice  as 
possible,  because  I  shall  want  a  little  time." 

She  had  hardly  written  these  lines  when  she  bit- 
terly repented  having  done  so.  Ought  she  not 
rather  to  desire  the  very  opposite,  a  sudden  call?  a 
call  that  might  come  in  the  morning,  and  take  her 
away  at  night,  without  opportunity  for  tempta- 
tion; instead,  her  weak  hand,  her  vile  hand,  had 
written  those  words !     And  now  ?     She  did  not  like 


THE  POLITICIAN  373 

to  tear  up  her  letter  and  write  another  in  presence 
of  Cortis.  Her  heart  beat  violently,  as  if  by  its 
vehement  "  no  "  it  had  already  half  conquered  her. 

"I  cannot  write,"  she  said  rising;  "I  cannot 
find  the  words.     I  had  better  see  him." 

Cortis,  terrified,  begged  her  to  do  nothing  of  the 
kind,  and  to  finish  her  letter.  She  might  alter  that 
one,  if  she  liked  or  write  another. 

Elena  resumed  her  seat,  and  said, — 

"  I  will  try." 

Immediately  various  arguments  rose  before  her 
why  she  should  not  change  those  last  lines.  That 
would  not  be  a  departure ;  it  would  be  a  flight.  She 
must  have  some  time  to  get  ready.  She  would 
have  to  go  from  the  country  into  town ;  she  must 
give  a  pretext  for  her  preparations.  It  was  not 
easy  to  find  one  suddenly.  A  very  sudden  deter- 
mination would  bring  the  conditions  of  moral  un- 
easiness, too  iiiarked  to  escape  observation  alto- 
gether, at  any  rate  from  Uncle  Lao.  She  must 
make  some  preparations  for  so  long  a  journey;  and 
as  they  were  to  be  made  secretly,  they  would  re- 
quire more  time. 

Then  her  heart  made  another  suggestion.  What 
if  she  destroyed  her  letter?  What  if  she  went 
away  now  without  either  writing  or  speaking? 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  perhaps  I  had  better  let  this 
go  as  it  is." 

Cortis  rang,  and  told  the  messenger  to  take  the 
letter  to  the  Senate. 

"  I  can  send  it  later  on,"  whispered  Elena ;  but 


374  THE  POLITICIAN 

Cortis  could  not  see  any  reason  for  this  delay.  She 
wrote  the  closing  lines,  and  directed  it,  seeming  to 
hear  around  her,  as  she  did  so,  the  thundering  of 
the  sea.     There  was  still  time. 

"What  if  he  were  not  well?"  she  said,  in  a 
trembling  voice.     "  I  might  do  without  writing?" 

"  No,  no,"  answered  Cortis.  "  I  am  sure  he  is 
perfectly  well.  Give  it  to  me,"  and,  taking  the  let- 
ter from  her  hand,  he  gave  it  to  the  messenger. 

"Take  this  at  once,"  he  said;  then,  turning  to 
Elena,  he  asked :  "  To  the  Senate,  or  to  his 
house  ?  " 

She  did  not  seem  to  hear  him. 

"  To  the  Senate,  or  to  his  own  house  ?  "  repeated 
Cortis. 

"  Number  54  Via  delle  Muratte,"  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice. 

The  man  departed  with  the  letter.  O  God!  If 
Cortis  should  repent  of  his  haste,  and  call  him 
back,  if  he  should  suspect,  if  he  should  guess !  But 
nothing  of  this  could  happen  now.  The  messenger 
had  already  gained  the  staircase. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  asked  Cortis. 

She  had  no  time  to  answer,  for  Clenizzi  entered 
at  that  moment.  She  ran  to  meet  him,  turning  her 
back  on  her  cousin,  and  received  him  with  so  much 
cordiality  that  the  old  man  was  quite  flattered. 
Cortis  had  sent  for  him  to  beg  him  to  go  and  collect 
certain  papers  at  his  house  that  he  wanted  to  take 
with  him.  But  the  Senator,  who  had  hastened  in 
response  to  the  summons,  could  not  drag  himself 


I    UNIVERSITY   ] 

THE  POLITICIAN  375 

away  from  Donna  Elena,  and  stood  there  smiling-, 
bowing,  and  making  pretty  speeches. 

"  I  say,  senator,"  cried  Cortis,  after  some  time. 

"  Here  I  am,"  answered  he,  "  at  your  orders. 
Pray  make  use  of  me.  I  am  quite  at  your  dis- 
posal." 

"  And  I  am  going  away,"  said  Elena.  "  We 
shall  meet  at  the  station  this  evening." 

"  Before  Cortis  or  Clenizzi  could  detain  her,  she 
had  turned  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER     XX 

A  HIDDEN  DRAMA 

No  blade  of  grass  stirred  round  the  oval  lake  in 
the  gardens  of  Villa  Cortis,  no  leaf  trembled  on 
the  horn-beams  that  grew  around  it.  The  water, 
brown  as  far  as  the  middle  of  the  lake  froni  the 
neighbouring  torrent,  and  silvery  beyond,  had  no 
ripple  on  it;  and  even  the  white  clouds  hung  mo- 
tionless in  mid-air,  tampering  the  sun  till  it  gazed 
^.sleepily  into  the  depths,  while  every  sense  was  lulled 
by  the  trickle  of  the  stream  that  fed  it.  The  si- 
lence was  full  of  unseen  life,  quivering  with  expec- 
'tation.  As  soon  as  any  breath  of  wind  came  from 
the  south,  every  blade  of  grass,  every  leaflet  whis- 
pered the  news;  the  lake  alone  knew  that  it  was 
not  the  great  south  wind  that  blows  in  May,  bring- 
ing joy  and  life  to  every  wood,  to  every  meadow, 
and  to  itself  also ;  the  water  did  not  add  a  ripple 
to  its  surface,  and  when  the  breath  died  away,  every- 
thing once  more  resumed  its  stillness  and  its  si- 
lence. 

"  How  quiet  it  is,"  said  Cortis,  in  a  low  voice. 

Elena,  seated  near  him  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree 
that  lay  in  t^ie  grass  near  the  beginning  of  the  path 
that  leads  from  the  lake  to  the  house,  did  not  an- 

37^ 


THE  POLITICIAN  377 

« 

swer   immediately.     She  seemed   absorbed   in  con- 
templating the  water. 

"Too  quiet,"  she  said  presently,  without  moving 
her  eyes  or  her  face. 

"  Why  too  quiet  ?  "  asked  Cortis. 

"  Because  it  makes  one  forget  too  easily ;  here 
one  is  too  much  shut  off  from  the  world ;  one's  only 
thought  is  to  stay  here,  even  though  one  be  not 
comfortable.  It  makes  one  soft,  inert.  Does  it 
not?" 

Cortis  picked  up  a  pebble,  and  threw  it  into  the 
lake,  which  gave  out  a  little  cry,  as  of  pain;  then 
he  remained  watching  the  wavelets  till  their  ever- 
widening  circles  touches  the  bank. 

"  I  don't  feel  that,"  he  answened.  "  I  am  thank- 
ful to  be  out  of  the  world,  and  would  gladly  keep 
out  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Daniele,  don't  say  that ;  it  hurts  me  to  hear 
you." 

It  was  easy  to  see,  from  her  grieved  voice,  that 
she  meant  what  she  said,  and  that  he  did  really 
cause  her  pain  by  such  words;  it  was  easy  to  see 
it  also  in  the  great  eyes  which  turned  towards  him, 
looking  at  him  first  with  sad  tranquillity,  then  sud- 
denly with  passion. 

Cortis  too'-  one  of  her  hands,  which  she  aban- 
doned to  him. 

"Why?"  he  inquired  tenderly,  "why  does  it 
hurt  you  ?  You  know  I  have  no  intention  of  bury- 
ing myself  in  sloth.  For  the  present,  at  any  rate,  I 
am  out  of  the  political  sphere.     I  was  born  thirty 


378  THE  POLITICIAN 

or  forty  years  too  soon.  I  mean  as  far  as  militant 
politics  are  concerned.  But  there  remain  science 
and  books.  I  do  not  in  the  smallest  degree  abandon 
my  ideas.  Only  I  see  that  our  country  is  not  yet 
ripe  for  them,  and  it  would  be  well  if  some  one 
would  help  to  prepare  it  by  making  these  ideas 
known,  and  by  discussing  thoroughly  their  theory 
before  attempting  to  put  them  into  practice.  I 
shall  stay  here;  I  shall  read,  write,  and  perhaps 
travel ;  that  may  be  necessary  to  me.  And  we  will 
discuss  together  all  that  I  write,  will  we  not?  For 
I  hope  you  are  going  to  spend  a  long  time  at  Passo 
di  Rovese?  " 

Cortis  pronounced  the  last  words  in  a  very  low, 
almost  timid  voice. 

She  smiled  at  him  in  silence,  her  half-closed  eyes 
moist.     Then  she  whispered, — 

"  You  must  go  back  to  the  Chamber,  to  please 
me.     You  must  look  after  your  newspaper." 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  over  and  done  with,"  answered 
he. 

Elena  started;  her  hand,  which  had  been  lying 
dead,  pressed  his. 

"  How  '  over  and  done  with  ?  '  Have  you  an- 
swered?" 

The  previous  day  Cortis  had  received  a  letter 
from  Rome,  asking  him  what  his  intentions  were 
regarding  the  newspaper.  As  he  had  not  been  able 
to  make  his  speech,  did  he  not  think  that  it  should 
appear  at  once  ?  Or  would  he  wait  for  another 
opportunity?     Did  he  persist  in  his  intention  of  re- 


THE  POLITICIAN  *       379 

taining  the  editorship  until  the  reassembhng  of  the 
Chamber?  Or  would  his  health  make  that  impos- 
sible? 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  have  not  written  yet ;  I  shall 
do  it  to-day." 

"  No,  you  must  not !  "  exclaimed  Elena. 

Cortis  began  to  laugh. 

"  I  say,  yes  I  must ;  and  you  shall  sign  it." 

Her  eyes  glittered. 

In  the  grass  near  him  was  a  small,  yellowish  vol- 
ume of  Shakespeare,  in  the  Tauchnitz  edition.  He 
took  it  up,  and  began  turning  over  the  leaves,  say- 
ing,— 

"  Where  is  the ,  passage  you  dreamed  of  in 
Rome?" 

Elena  snatched  away  the  book. 

"  Promise  me,"  she  said,  "  that  you  will  show 
me  your  answer?" 

"  Yes,  I  promise  you  I  will." 

His  grave  face  and  his  voice  expressed  a  surprise 
that  was  almost  painful. 

"Are  you  afraid  of  me?"  he  went  on.  "Do 
you  wish  to  send  me  away?  " 

She  leaned  towards  him  for  an  instant,  so  car- 
ried away  by  a  sudden  impulse  that  her  lips  fash- 
ioned a  kiss.  Then,  drawing  herself  back,  she 
looked  at  him  again,  and  opening  the  book,  hunted 
through  it,  turning  over  the  leaves  again  and  again 
for  some  time.  At  last  she  handed  it  to  her  cousin, 
pointing  to  the  passage :  "  My  little  body  is  aweary 
of  this  great  w^orld." 


38o  THE  POLITICIAN 

The  sad  words  thus  silently  pointed  out  to  him 
made  him  feel  cold,  as  if  with  a  secret  foreboding. 
He  read  them  again,  and  then  looked  at  Elena,  as 
if  to  question  her;  but  her  eyes  were  turned  to- 
wards the  sleeping  water, 

"The  Merchant  of  Venice,'"  he  said;  "I  had 
forgotten  the  line." 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  a  bell  was  wafted 
to  them  across  the  silent  lake,  and  the  other  bells 
took  up  the  sound,  repeating  from  all  sides. 

"  Noon  ?  "  said  Elena,  getting  up,  surprised  to 
find  it  so  late. 

The  post  usually  reached  Casa  Carre  at  one 
o'clock.  The  hours  of  the  morning  were  always 
the  most  painful  to  Elena.  After  the  postman 
had  been,  she  could  breathe  a  little,  allowing  her- 
self to  enjoy  her  home,  her  mountains,  the  presence 
and  voice  of  her  friend,  with  the  certainty  that,  up 
till  one  o'clock  the  next  day,  she  could  live  in  peace, 
indifferent  to  letters. 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry?"  asked  Daniele.  "Let 
us  listen  to  these  bells  for  a  little." 

She  was  silent,  and  turned  to  gaze  through  the 
horn-beams  across  the  valley  to  her  own  home.  A 
twinkling  ray  of  sunlight  was  travelling  over  the 
neighbouring  field,  which  sloped  away  from  where 
she  stood,  touching,  as  it  passed,  the  black  tops  of 
the  fir-trees,  which  were  putting  out  their  fresh 
shoots. 

Down  there,  on  Villa  Carre,  on  the  bed  of  the 
Rovese  torrent,  and  even  beyond  that,  on  the  bare 


THE  POLITICIAN  381 

sides  of  Monte  Barco,  were  large  patches  of  sun- 
light. She  could  not  see  that,  behind  her,  Passo 
Grande,  frowned  deep  blue,  almost  black,  above 
its  steep  precipices  and  declivities  under  a  heavy 
crown  of  clouds.  Elena  could  not  see  this  threat, 
but  even  the  pallid  smile  of  the  sun  seemed  to  her 
sad.  She  was  grieved  at  Cortis's  nervousness,  his 
love  of  nature,  of  solitude,  of  bells !  It  was  so  new 
in  him. 

He  had  not  thoroughly  recovered  yet.  Would 
he  get  well  ?  or  had  some  cord  in  him  snapped  ? 

Daniele  listened  to  the  bells,  which  always  told 
the  same  incomprehensible  story,  and  made  the 
very  solitude  feel, devotional. 

"  I  seem  to  be  a  child  again,"  he  said ;  "  to  have 
gone  back  to  the  days  when  my  grandmother  made 
me  say  the  Angclus." 

"  I  could  pray  better  here  than  in  church,"  said 
Elena. 

"  How  would  you  pray  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  smile. 
"  What  would  you  ask  for?  " 

"  I  deserve  nothing,  Daniele,"  she  said  sadly. 
There   was    so   much    affection    in   that   unwonted 
"  Daniele,"  so  much  grief,  such  genuine  confession ! 

The  mid-day  bells  were  ringing,  but  Cortis 
heeded  them  no  longer.  He  had  something  to  say 
—  something  that  caused  him  much  uneasiness. 
He  rose,  took  Elena  by  the  arm,  and  drew  her  away 
towards  the  shadows  thrown  by  the  horn-beams 
along  the  path. 

"Listen!"  he  said.     "Do  you  remember  that  I 


382  THE  POLITICIAN 

once  wrote  to  you  about  Pergolese  and  his  un- 
known, and  I  asked  you  whether  they  were  now 
together  ?  Would  you  not  pray  for  such  a  reunion 
in  another  hfe  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Elena,  in  scarcely  audible  tones ; 
"I  could  not.  Have  I  hurt  you?"  she  added. 
"  Forgive  me !  " 

He  was  silent. 

"  You  have  so  much  faith,"  she  said ;  "  I  have 
not.  I  cannot  ask  God  to  make  me  happy.  I 
might  ask  Him  to  make  you  happy,  I  desire  that  so 
much ;  but  I  have  not  the  courage  to  ask  those 
things  of  God  for  myself.  I  have  no  right.  And 
I  do  not  think  it  would  be  well  to  ask  them.  It  is 
all  I  can  do  to  say,  *  Thy  will  be  done,'  and  to  beg 
Him  to  enable  both  of  us  to  bless  it,  whatever  it 
be." 

Cortis  took  her  arm,  and  seizing  her  left  hand 
in  both  his  own,  pressed  it  violently  in  silence.  For 
a  long  space  neither  spoke  again. 

When  they  reached  a  place  whence  a  little  shady 
walk  turns  to  the  right  from  the  larger  path,  Cortis 
stopped,  and  asked  Elena  if  she  would  like  to  go 
and  bid  "  good-day  "  to  her  lime-tree.  The  lime- 
tree  was  not  the  only  thing  in  that  direction;  the 
column  with  the  clasped  hands  and  the  Latin  in- 
scription was  also  there. 

"  Let  us  go  to-morrow,"  she  said  gently,  "  if  you 
don't  mind,  or  later  to-day,  shall  we?  " 

She  preferred  to  reserve  that  pleasure  until  after 
post-time,  when  she  would  be  more  in  a  position  to 


THE  POLITICIAN  383 

enjoy  it.  And  besides,  she  felt  too  uneasy  at  the 
words  of  Daniele  on  the  subject  of  future  reunion, 
too  much  in  danger  of  letting  him  see  how  much 
she  loved  him;  he  did  not  yet  know  how  much! 
It  would  not  be  right.  She  did  not  wish  that  he 
should  know  it.  for,  when  the  terrible  day  came,  he 
would  suffer  the  more. 

She  fancied  she  noticed  a  shadow  of  displeasure 
on  his  face,  and  immediately  added,  with  a  blush, — 

*'  You  see,  I  should  like  to  be  at  home  when  the 
post  arrives.  It  is  so  many  days  since  Uncle  Lao 
has  written." 

So  many  days?  Why,  it  was  only  a  fortnight 
since  she  had  come  and  he  had  written  several 
times.  At  most,  it  was  not  more  than  five  days 
since  they  had  heard  from  him.  In  any  case,  Elena 
said,  he  ought  to  have  written  sooner,  and  she  was 
uneasy.  Cortis  asked  what  was  keeping  Lao  so 
long  in  Rome.  He  knew  of  one  matter  but  that 
was  finished.  Of  this  the  settlement  of  the  bank 
debt,  Cortis  gave  Elena  no  further  explanation,  per- 
haps forgetting  that  he  had  given  her  a  glimpse  of 
it  in  Rome.  Concerning  this  Lao  had  already  writ- 
ten to  him,  thanking  him  for  what  he  had  done,  and 
informing  him  that  the  payment  had  already  been 
directly  provided  for  by  himself.  , 

Elena  answered  that  she  believed  him  to  be  taken 
up  with  very  serious  business;  more  than  that  she 
could  not  say.  Cortis  thought  of  the  affairs  of  Di 
Santa  Giulia,  but  said  no  more  till  they  reached  the 
gate  of  the  garden,  where  a  very  fine,  warm  rain 


384  THE  POLITICIAN 

began  to  fall,  just  visible  in  the  trembling  light  of 
the  sun's  rays,  but  so  soft  as  not  to  be  audible. 

"  Let  us  go  in,"  he  said,  "  and  wait ;  or  at  any 
rate  let  us  get  an  umbrella  from  the  bailiff." 

She  refused,  however,  and,  drawing  herself  away, 
took  the  path  below  the  house  leading  up  the  hill. 

He  was  quite  surprised  at  such  impatience. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  after  they  had  gone  a  few 
steps,  "  I  don't  know  why  I  should  continue  to  live 
in  your  house.  I  can  easily  come  here  now.  I  am 
not  an  invalid  any  longer;  I  am  as  strong  as  ever 
again." 

^  "  Do  as  you  please,"  said  Elena,  in  a  humble 
voice.  "  Do  what  seems  best  in  your  eyes ;  perhaps 
it  would  be  best  so !  " 

He  had  expected  a  different  answer,  and  was 
not  content  with  this  one.  It  seemed  to  him  too 
coldly  discreet,  and  not  quite  just  towards  him. 
Quick  by  nature  to  take  offence,  he  was,  more  than 
ever  inclined  to  do  so,  since  his  illness.  Elena's 
words,  wrongly  interpreted,  drove  out  of  his  head 
for  the  moment  the  other  matters  which  had  previ- 
ously disturbed  him. 

So  it  happened  that  neither  of  them  desired  to 
talk;  and  the  warm  rain,  which  was  now  falling 
faster,  murmuring  round  them  first  on  the  shrubs, 
and  then  on  the  great  walnut  trees,  and  finally  on 
the  hedges  of  the  high  road,  favored  their  silence. 
Elena  walked  a  little  in  advance,  as  he  had  not 
offered  her  his  arm  again.  There  were  no  patches 
of   sunlight  now.     The   fields   were   lost,   and   the 


THE  POLITICIAN  385 

road  ahead  of  them  steamed  in  a  dark  mist,  through 
which  the  ghosts  of  the  distant  mountains  were  just 
visible. 

Elena  walked  on  hurriedly,  without  even  open- 
ing her  parasol.  He  had  told  her  once  to  open  it, 
and  then  had  not  spoken  again.  Her  little  round 
black  velvet  cap  was  useless,  except  to  filter  the 
water  drop  by  drop,  into  her  ears  and  down  her 
neck.  When  they  had  passed  the  solitary  house, 
called  "  The  Factory,"  Cortis  suddenly  joined  her, 
took  her  parasol  and  opened  it,  at  the  same  time 
taking  her  arm,  without  a  word.  She  let  him  do 
as  he  liked,  smiling  at  him  with  ineffable  tender- 
ness, and  thankful  that  the  slight  cloud  had  passed 
away  from  between  them.  She  did  not  wish  to 
speak.  Then  she  stretched  her  hand  over  the  low 
wall  to  the  right,  where  the  long  grass  was  covered 
with  anemones  and  picking  one  gave  it  to  him. 

They  had  just  reached  the  gate  of  the  Villa  Carre 
when  the  postman  came  out.  Cortis  called  him, 
and  inquired  whether  he  had  brought  any  letters. 

"  For  you,  sir,  yes ;  you  always  have  a  bundle. 
Nothing  for  the  countess ;  only  the  newspapers." 

"  And  for  me?  "  asked  Elena,  with  beating  heart. 

"  No,  signora;  nothing  for  you." 

Another  day  gained !  Elena  drew  a  long  breath 
of  relief  but  involuntarily  pressed  Cortis's  arm  with 
her  own.  He  looked  at  her,  and  was  surprised  at 
the  expression  of  joy  in  her  eyes.  Had  she  really 
wanted  news  of  her  uncle?  She  guessed  his  sur- 
prise, and  blushed,  saying  hastily  that  she  was  sure 


386  THE  POLITICIAN 

her  uncle  was  enjoying  himself  thoroughly  in  Rome, 
and  had  forgotten  all  about  them ;  it  was  better 
that  he  should. 

They  passed  through  the  gate,  and  took  a  path 
that,  a  hundred  feet  further  on,  led  direct  to  Elena's 
studio,  and  thence  to  the  villa. 

"  Shall  we  go  in  ?  "  asked  Cortis  as  they  passed 
the  studio. 

Elena  smiled,  thinking  that  he  had  forgotten  how 
wet  they  both  were,  nevertheless,  she  assented. 

"  We  will  not  sit  down,"  she  said  with  a  laugh 
as  they  entered ;  "  my  poor  sofa !  " 

Cortis  had  not  thought  of  that.  He  regretted 
his  carelessness  and  wished  to  go  out  again.  But 
then  she  would  not  consent,  as  she  did  not  wish  to 
seem  reproving.  They  could  stand,  and  there  was 
no  need  to  hurry  indoors.  And  she  smelled  the 
violets  and  the  white  banksia  roses  in  a  bronze  vase 
on  the  table.  Cortis  meanwhile,  was  looking  at 
the  books. 

"  Oh !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  your  *  thanks  and  greet- 
ings ' !  " 

He  had  found  the  volume  of  the  Memoircs 
d'Outre  Tombe  that  Elena,  when  starting  for  Rome, 
had  given  to  her  mother  to  be  restored  to  Daniele. 
Cortis  had  afterwards  left  it  in  the  countess's  draw- 
ing-room, and  Elena,  having  found  it  there,  had 
taken  possession  of  it. 

"  Did  they  not  go  ?  "  asked  Elena,  with  an  affec- 
tionate smile.     "  Were  they  too  cold  ?  "         ' 


THE  POLITICIAN  387 

How  sweet,  how  pure  were  her  smile  and  her 
glance !  He  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  looked 
at  her  in  silence.  A  step  was  heard  upon  the 
gravel.  Elena  hastily  withdrew  her  hands.  It  was 
a  servant  to  say  that  the  countess  had  seen  them 
come  in,  and  wished  to  speak  to  them  directly. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  asked  Elena. 

"  I  believe  a  telegram  has  arrived,"  answered  the 
footman,  "  and  that  Signer  Lao  is  coming." 

"  That  is  why  he  has  not  written,"  said  Cortis. 

Elena  made  no  answer;  she  tried  not  to  let  him 
see  her  face,  because  she  ought  to  be  glad  of  this 
unexpected  news,  and  it  was  hard  enough  to  appear 
calm  without  having  to  appear  glad. 

Countess  Tarquinia  was  not  overjoyed  at  the  in- 
telligence either;  she  would  not  have  complained 
had  the  absence  of  her  brother-in-law  lasted  a  little 
longer.  \\'ithout'.him  she  could  do  as  she  pleased 
in  the  house ;  nobody  grumbled,  nobody  made  grim- 
aces when  she  spoke,  nobody  said  "  Nonsense !  "  to 
her;  in  a  word,  she  could  breathe  while  he  was 
away. 

"  This  will  interest  both  of  you,"  she  said,  hand- 
ing the  telegram  to  her  daughter.  "  He  telegraphs 
from  Bergamo,  you  see?  And  what  possesses  him 
to  bring  that  poor  old  Clenizzi  up  here?  The  old 
man  would  be  much  happier  in  his  own  home.  I 
can't  make  it  out.  What  can  he  have  gone  to  Ber- 
gamo for  ?  " 

In  this  way  she  poured  out,  poor  woman,  her 


388  THE  POLITICIAN 

own  annoyance,  ending  at  last  by  declaring  that  if 
one  lived  with  a  madman,  one  must  expect  all  sorts 
of  things  to  happen. 

"  What  can  have  happened  ?  "  asked  Elena,  as 
she  went  up  to  her  own  room. 

Could  everything  be  settled  ?  Could  the  day  and 
place  of  departure  be  fixed?  Heavens,  could  the 
dreaded  letter  be  on  its  way?  Just  before  leaving 
Rome  her  husband  had  sent  her  a  note,  in  which  he 
said  he  would  give  her  five  or  six  days'  notice  be- 
fore starting.  She  seemed  to  see  her  uncle  al- 
ready, to  hear  him  say,  *'  He  will  start  on  such  and 
such  a  day,"  and  a  shudder  ran  through  her,  which 
broke  the  thread  of  her  thoughts.  At  what  time 
would  her  uncle  arrive.  She  began  to  long  for  him 
with  feverish  anxiety,  for  this  state  of  suspense  was 
worse  than  any  certainty.  And  she  was  without  a 
soul  to  whom  she  could  pour  out -all  her  woes;  with- 
out a  helper,  without  a  comforter!  Had  her  faith 
been  like  that  of  Cortis,  she  could  at  least  have 
prayed  that  her  uncle  might  bring  home  good  news, 
some  happy,  unexpected  issue  to  it  all.  But  what 
was  done  was  done,  and  could  not  be  altered  now ! 
She  could  only  say :     "  Thy  will  be  done." 

She  was  standing  in  front  of  her  window,  with 
her  hands  pressed  against  her  cheeks.  Her  eyes 
were  fixed,  her  thoughts  upon  those  words  of  the 
prayer  which  did  not,  as  yet,  come  from  her  heart, 
when  she  heard  Cortis's  voice.  He  occupied  the 
room  on  the  ground  floor  below  her,  and  he  was 
speaking  to  somebody.     Ah,  no,  her  heart  would 


THE  POLITICIAN  389 

not,  could  not  utter  those  words:  It  meant  life, 
love,  happiness.  She  drew  her  hands  slowly  down, 
closing  her  eyes  with  them  at  the  same  time.  "  Dan- 
iele !  "  she  murmured,  in  a  heart-broken  voice.  For 
one  moment  she  was  in  imagination  all  his ;  his  heart 
and  his  name  were  hers. 

Countess  Tarquinia  came  to  consult  her  daughter 
as  to  which  room  should  be  prepared  for  Clenizzi ; 
as  to  what  dinner  she  should  order,  as  it  was  Satur- 
day, whether  of  meat  or  "  maigre."  The  countess 
did  not  know  the  senator  well,  and  was  quite  in  the 
dark  as  to  his  habits  and  ideas.  She  could  not  bear 
being  worried  about  such  trifles! 

"At  any  rate,"  she  said,  "  we  shall  learn  some- 
thing about  your  husband  now.  He  has  not  writ- 
ten to  you  once,  has  he?  That's  nice  behaviour! 
But  you  know  you  can  stay  here  as  long  as  you 
like,  and  as  long  as  he  leaves  you  free." 

She  knew  nothing  of  Lao's  secret  actions;  she 
only  knew,  from  Elena,  that  she  had  left  her  hus- 
band fairly  composed  that  evening  in  Rome,  in 
hopes  of  some  outcome  which  could  not  be,  as  he 
said,  worse  than  his  present  condition,  and  that  he 
was  quite  willing  to  leave  her  free  to  come  and  go 
as  she  pleased. 

Elena  did  not  answer,  but  followed  her  down- 
stairs to  look  at  the  room  next  to  that  occupied  by 
Cortis,  which  they  thought  of  getting  ready  for 
Clenizzi.  In  the  hall  they  found  Cortis  reading 
his  letters ;  he  smiled  silently  at  Elena  as  she  passed 
him. 


390 


THE  POLITICIAN 


"  Tell  me,  Daniele,"  said  the  countess,  reappear- 
ing in  the  hall  a  few  minutes  later,  "  tell  me  what 
I  am  to  give  this  senator  to  eat.     Fish  or  flesh  ?  " 

"  Elena  knows,"  answered  Cortis. 

Elena  made  a  gesture  of  surprise. 

"  I  know  ?  "  she  said. 

Cortis  pretended  to  be  annoyed  to  find  how  care- 
lessly she  read  his  letters.  He  had  certainly  writ- 
ten to  her  that  Clenizzi  was  in  the  habit  of  p-oing 
once  or  twice  a  week  to  eat  a  "  maigre  "  dish  in 
Trastevere,  where  a  Lombard  cook  prepared  it  for 
him.     What  was  it  called  ?  casonsei. 

To  be  sure,  Elena  remembered  it  now. 

"  For  shame !  "  said  her  mother.  "  You  deserve 
a  good  scolding —  forgetting  things  just  when  they 
are  wanted." 

She  went  off  to  see  if  her  Milanese  cook  knew 
how  to  prepare  this  dish,  Elena  waited  till  the  door 
was  shut,  and  then  asked  her  cousin  if  he  really 
thought  that  she  did  not  read  his  letters. 

"  You  don't  know,"  she  continued ;  and  she 
wished  to  add,  "  how  often,"  but  she  did  not  com- 
plete the  sentence.  Cortis  understood,  and  takine 
her  hand,  made  her  sit  down  beside  him  on  the 
sofa. 

"  I  know,"  he  said  kindly;  "  I  can  guess." 

She  left  her  hand  in  his,  and  looked  in  silence, 
first  at  him  and  then  at  the  door.  She  thouo-ht 
that  she  would  be  gone  in  a  few  days,  and  that  she 
might  permit  herself  this  little  indulgence. 

Then  she  said  in  a  low  voice, — 


THE  POLITICIAN  391 

"  You  had  many  letters  ?  " 

"Yes;  friends  in  Rome." 

She  looked  at  her  imprisoned  hand,  and  said,  in  a 
still  lower  tone  than  before, — 

"What  do  they  want?" 

"  Oh,  nothing !  To  hear  how  I  am  —  when  I 
am  going  to  them." 

"Not  yet?"  she  said. 

"  Certainly  not !  " 

Elena  freed  her  hand,  lightly  caressing  his,  as  she 
murmured, — 

"  But  later  on  —  when  you  are  quite  well  —  quite 
well  and  strong,  as  you  were  before."  She  pressed 
his  hands  now,  rai,sed  her  face,  and  smiled  at  him 
tenderly  and  sadly,  saying:     "  Then  you  will  go?  " 

"  Thank  Heavens,"  exclaimed  Countess  Tarqui- 
nia  re-entering,  "  he  knows  the  dish !  " 

"Really?"  said  Cortis,  rising,  and  without  an- 
swering Elena.  "  Then  your  dinner  is  settled.  In 
the  evening  give  him  a  bottle  of  wine,  a  little  Doni- 
zetti or  Pergolese,  and  the  old  fellow  will  be  per- 
fectly happy." 

"  Elena  will  look  after  the  music,"  said  the  count-" 
ess ;  "  I  can't  play.     At  what  time  will  they  be  here, 
did  you  say?  " 

They  could  not  arrive  before  half-past  six,  so 
there  were  still  four  hours  to  wait.  It  had  stopped 
raining  and  as  the  countess  had  one  or  two  visits 
to  pay  in  the  neighbourhood,  she  ordered  the  car- 
riage, and  started  soon  afterwards. 

"  What  letters  we  wrote  to  each  other !  "   said 


392  THE  POLITICIAN 

Cortis,  returning  to  his  place  near  his  cousin.  "  It 
seems  impossible !  " 

"Why  impossible?" 

"  Do  you  ask  me  ?  " 

Elena  dropped  her  eyes,  saying,  shyly  and 
gravely,— 

"  I  didn't  wish  you  to  love  me." 

"Why  not?" 

"  You  know.  Because  I  did  not  believe  it  would 
be  for  your  happiness." 

Cortis  leaned  towards  her,  and  said,  smiling, — 

"  But  you  don't  believe  that  any  longer,  do  you  ? 
you  have  no  more  doubts  of  that  kind?  " 

"  I  still  believe  it,"  answered  Elena,  covering  her 
face,  "  only  I  have  no  strength  now.  Do  you 
know,"  she  added  suddenly,  dropping  her  hands, 
"  that  I  longed  to  die  in  Sicily?  " 

He  seized  her  hands,  watched  her  quivering  lips, 
and  say  that  she  was  breathing  quickly,  as  though 
she  feared  he  was  going  to  carry  her  by  storm.  She 
had  a  moment  of  horrible  giddiness,  and  closed  her 
eyes,  paling  as  though  she  were  going  to  faint. 
Then  she  very  quietly  took  her  hands  away,  and 
drew  herself  away  into  the  opposite  corner  of  the 
sofa.  At  that  moment  a  servant  passed  through 
the  hall  with  some  things  that  were  wanted  for 
Clenizzi's  room. 

"Let  us  go  out  for  a  little,"  said  Cortis;  "it  is 
not  raining." 

"  I   am   too   tired,"   answered    Elena,    "  you   go 


THE  POLITICIAN  393 

alone."      Cortis    neither   spoke   nor   moved.      The 
servant  passed  back  through  the  hall. 

"  It  would  have  been  better,"  murmured  Elena. 

"What?" 

"To  have  died." 

"  You  must  never  say  that  again !  "  exclaimed 
Cortis  so  vehemently  that  she  feared  he  would  be 
overheard,  and  motioned  him  to  be  more  careful, 
and  to  lower  his  voice. 

"  You  must  not  say  that !  "  he  went  on  in  a  lower 
voice,  but  still  in  an  excited  tone.  "  You  don't 
know  what  you  are  saying.  You  don't  kno'yv  how 
I  love  you.  I  never  permit  myself  one  guilty  -^^ 
thought,  Elena,  never!  Do  you  think  I  was  born 
for  that  base  happiness  which  the  majority  of  peo- 
ple seek?  I  must  love,  and  I  must  suffer  for  what 
I  love.  Then  I  am  happy ;  I  feel  as  though  a  breath 
of  life  were  penetrating  my  whole  being,  as  though 
the  blessing  of  God  were  upon  me.  I  feel  that  I 
am  a  man,  with  all  the  dignity  and  the  strength  of  a 
man.  It  is  the  same  when  I  think  of  my  country, 
which  I  love  so  dearly.  My  conscience  tells  me, 
that  that  should  stand  before  everything  else.  For 
such  objects  I  am  glad  to  suffer.  The  more  I  have 
to  fight,  the  more  I  am  hurt,  and  the  more  I  suffer, 
the  better  I  am.  If  the  prospect  of  returning  to 
Rome  and  the  Chamber  is  distasteful  to  me,  it  is 
simply  because  I  fear  to  do  no  good  there,  and  not 
on  account  of  the  opposition  I  shall  meet.  And  if 
I  love  you,  Elena,  how  —  how  do  you  think  that 


394  THE  POLITICIAN 

my  happiness  could  consist  in  anything  but  in  con- 
tinuing to  love  you,  in  sacrificing  for  you,  now  and 
always,  everything  that  I  ought  to  sacrifice,  but  in 
trusting  meanwhile,  that  you  love  me,  and  that  your 
love  is  as  strong  and  noble  as  my  own  ?  How  can 
you  expect  me  to  marry?  Why  should  I?  To 
have  my  life  encumbered  and  my  heart  empty  ?  You 
are  my  love,  my  life,  my  happiness,  even  now,  while 
we  are  living  like  spirits,  praying  God  always  to 
help  us,  and  to  unite  us  some  day  —  I  do  not  say 
in  this  world.  For  I  do  pray  thus,  you  know,  and 
my  faith  is  strong!  " 

It  was  now  Elena's  turn  to  breathe  deeply,  drink- 
ing in  his  passionate  words  and  looks.  But  it  was 
too  much!  She  rose  suddenly,  and  pressing  his 
hand,  without  a  word,  rushed  into  the  garden,  and 
threw  herself  on  one  of  the  iron  seats  that  stood 
outside, 

A  cold,  stormy  wind  had  risen  in  the  north,  and 
was  shrieking  through  the  fir  trees,  and  blustering 
among  the  shrubs  and  the  wistaria.  It  tore  round 
the  dead  cypresses,  and  through  the  grass  in  the 
meadow,  confounding  its  voice  with  that  of  the 
Rovese  torrent  rushing  down  on  the  right,  thrown 
headlong  from  the  bare,  bleak  rocks  of  Monte 
Barco.  Down  in  the  valley  the  sky  was  clear.  A 
streak  of  blue  sky  touched  the  snow  and  the  sun- 
light on  the  distant  peaks  of  Val  Posena.  There 
were  no  clouds  on  the  summit  of  Passo  Grande, 
and  its  outline  stood  out  darkly  against  the  light 
background  of  clouds  which  were  scurrying  away 
southward;  opposite  to  it,  between  Val  di  Rovese 


THE  POLITICIAN  395 

and  Val  Posena,  the  obelisk-shaped  rocks  of  Corno 
Ducale  were  bathed  in  a  pure  golden  light. 

Elena  felt  better  for  the  sig:ht  of  the  sky  and 
mountains;  the  furious  wind  seemed  to  her  like  a 
spirit  of  purity  and  peace  cooling  her  forehead  and 
bosom,  and  quieting  her  imagination,  her  blood,  and 
her  heart.  All  the  various  noises  made  by  the 
wind,  its  sudden  rushes  through  the  trees,  its  differ- 
ent tones  of  complaint  or  contempt,  did  her  good, 
though  she  could  not  now  reply  to  them  as  she  once 
could,  when  in  some  secluded  corner  she  could  listen 
alone  and  happy,  with  so  many  pleasant  thoughts 
in  her  mind,  so  many  dreams.  Neither  could  she 
any  longer  talk  to  the  mountains,  but  nevertheless, 
when  she  gazed  upon  their  dear  venerable  forms, 
she  could  hear  the  voice  of  her  heart  as  clearly  as 
in  her  own  room. 

Ah,  foolish,  imprudent  heart,  what  was  it  say- 
ing? 

"  I  will  go,"  it  said,  and  then,  "  suppose  I  did  not 
go  ?  "  Then  it  beat  loudly  as  if  it  would  break, 
struggling  violently  against  her  weakened  will,  and 
pointing  out  the  joy  of  being  near  him,  and  of 
knowing  that  it  would  be  always  so  to  the  end  of 
life.  "  No,  no,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  will  go,  I 
must  go.  It  is  my  duty  to  go !  "  And  having  thus 
quieted  her  conscience,  she  returned  to  her  imag- 
inings, allowing  them  to  please  her  fancy  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  Contessina !  "  cried  a  maid  from  the  balcony, 
"  it  is  very  cool  for  you  out  in  the  wind !  " 

She  started  as  though  some  one  had  guessed  her 


396  THE  POLITICIAN 

secret,  and,  rising,  she  took  refuge  in  her  Httle 
study.  There,  at  least,  no  prying  eyes  could  fol- 
low! 

The  volume  of  the  Memoires  was  lying  open  on 
the  table  as  Cortis  had  left  it.  Elena  took  it  up. 
Again  that  same  page,  these  same  words,  "  jamais 
ternie."  She  could  not  take  her  eyes  off  them.  They 
seemed  to  have  been  written  for  her,  and  to  have 
reached  her  at  an  opportune  moment.  She  de- 
fended herself,  saying  that  her  will  had  never 
sinned,  only  her  fancy.  There  was  not  as  yet  one 
spot  upon  her  life !  As  she  read  on,  almost  uncon- 
sciously, she  came  upon  the  following  words : — 

"  Depuis  t'az'oir  vu,  mon  coeur  s'est  releve  vers 
Di'eii  et  je  I'ai  place  tout  entier  au  pied  de  la  croix, 
sa  seule  et  veritable  place." 

A  great  silence  fell  upon  her,  stilling  her  powers 
of  thought  and  feeling.  She  fancied  that  she  too 
would  like  to  perform  this  act  of  adoration  before 
the  Cross.     Taking  up  the  book  again,  she  read, — 

""  //  n'est  rien  tel,  mon  ami,  que  I'idee  de  la  mort, 
pour  nous  deharrasser  de  I'avenir." 

Here  again  she  stopped. 

It  was  quite  true  that  she  had  longed  for  death  in 
Sicily.  Now  she  did  not,  although  the  future 
loomed  terrible  before  her.  How  could  she  ever 
have  longed  for  death?  It  seemed  impossible. 
Perchance  in  some  dark  corner  of  her  heart,  hope 
had  taken  stronger  root  than  she  was  aware  of; 


THE  POLITICIAN  397 

perhaps  she  dreaded  facing,  in  an  unprepared  state, 
the  mystery  of  the  future  Hfe,  concerning  which  she 
and  Cortis  felt  so  differently.  What  a  shock  it 
would  be  to  him  should  she  die  without  faith! 

She  tried  to  imagine  what  this  faith  was  like, 
but  she  could  not.  She  was  tortured  by  the  ex- 
pected arrival  of  her  uncle,  and  each  time  the  clock 
struck  her  anxiety  increased.  She  tried  to  con- 
tinue her  reading,  but  had  to  put  down  the  book 
again.  She  was  tired,  and  could  not  keep  still. 
Remaining  there  wearied  her,  but  meeting  Daniele, 
or  sitting  with  her  mother,  w^ho  had  come  home, 
would  weary  her  still  more.  And  it  wanted  nearly 
three  hours  to  half-past  six! 

She  was  standing  on  the  threshold  of  her  sitting- 
room  when  the  noise  of  wheels  and  hoofs  resounded 
in  the  portico.  She  stepped  back  instinctively;  she 
feared  now  that  it  might  be  her  uncle.  Was  it  pos- 
sible, so  soon?  What  would  she  not  give  if  it 
should  prove  not  to  be  he,  and  if  he  would  not  come 
for  another  hour!  She  had  not  yet  considered 
whether  she  should  ask  for  news  of  her  husband,  or 
wait  for  him  to  begin.  She  had  not  yet  decided 
upon  her  own  behaviour,  for  it  would  be  difficult 
to  dissemble  before  him,  who  knew  so  much,  and 
who  might  have  some  secret  suspicion.  It  was  he, 
beyond  a  doubt !  There  was  Cortis's  voice  greet- 
ing them  loudly,  there  was  Clenizzi's  voice  too. 
Her  mother  told  a  servant  to  fetch  the  contessina, 
and  taking  her  courage  in  both  hands,  she  advanced 
towards  the  group. 


398  THE  POLITICIAN 

Senator  Clenizzi  came  forward  alone  to  meet  her, 
hat  in  hand,  crying, — 

"  There  she  is !  there  she  is !  Your  uncle  brought 
me,  you  know !  I  should  never  have  dared,  dear 
baroness !  "  he  said,  bowing  and  smiling,  as  soon  as 
he  was  within  reach  of  her  hand. 

Elena  answered  with  some  words  of  greeting, 
and  immediately  asked  where  her  uncle  was. 

"  He  is  well  —  very  well !  "  answered  the  sen- 
ator. "  He  hurried  in  for  fear  of  the  wind ;  wind 
is  a  very  serious  thing,  in  his  opinion.  I  never  saw 
anything  like  him.  I  was  nearly  stifled  in  the  car- 
riage." 

Elena  interrupted  him  by  asking  after  her  uncle's 
temper. 

"  Good,  first-rate,  could  not  be  better !  I  wish 
you  could  have  seen  him  this  morning  when  we 
started !  He  insisted  on  coming  by  the  early  train, 
so  as  to  gain  an  hour  or  two  here.  He  w^as  like  a 
boy!" 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Elena,  "  do  you  know  if  he  fin- 
ished his  business  in  Rome?  Need  he  go  back 
there?  " 

"  I  think  not.  He  told  me  that  now  he  must 
begin  to  economise  —  he  said  he  should  not  stir 
from  here  for  a  long  time,  but  that  he  was  certain 
of  having  good  company  here,  always.  Let  us  go 
in,  baroness,  otherwise,  he  will  be  in  a  fury." 

Indeed,  Lao  was  at  the  hall  window  tapping  on 
the  glass  and  calling  them.  Elena,  frozen  at  first 
by  the  senator's  words,  collected  herself,  and  ran 
toward  him  with  a  smile. 


THE  POLITICIAN  399 

At  eight  o'clock,  two  hours  after  dinner,  Clenizzi 
was  still  dilating  enthusiastically  upon  his  Berga- 
mese  dish,  which  had  been  a  perfect  success. 

"  Beautiful  house,  beautiful   country,  countess," 
he  cried,  entering  from  a  stroll  with  Daniele ;  "  but" 
what  casonsei." 

He  thought  that  the  countess  was  alone,  but,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  receiving  that  evetiing. 
The  billiard-room  was  lighted  and  Count  Lao  was 
playing  by  -himself,  as  he  did  in  moments  of  great 
good  humour,  tp  retain  the  conviction  that  neither 
his  eyes  nor  his  hand  had  lost  its  cunning. 

Lighted  card-tables  were  set  out  in  the  drawing- 
room.  There  were  candles  on  the  piano,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  large  lamp  on  the  oval  table  near  the 
sofa,  on  which  Countess  Tarquinia  was  sitting  with 
Signorina  Zirisela.  The  parish  priest,  the  doctor, 
and  Zirisela,  who  had  just  begun  a  game  of  cards, 
rose  at  the  entrance  of  Cortis  and  Clenizzi  with  a 
diabolical  grating  of  their  chairs  and  their  feet,  al- 
though Don  Bartolo,  the  fourth  player,  kept  his 
seat,  grumbling,  "  Come  on,  come  on ;  what's  all 
this  fuss  about  ?  " 

Signorina  Zirisela  also  got  up  very  respectfully, 
and  Doctor  Picuti  and  the  two  or  three  other  men 
who  were  watching  the  game.  Poor,  short-sighted 
Clenizzi  did  not  know  whither  to  fly;  he  made  a 
series  of  vague  bows,  while  Countess  Tarquinia  re- 
cited to  him  a  whole  litany  of  introductions. 

"And  Baroness  Elena?"  he  asked,  looking 
round. 

At  that  moment  Elena  entered  the  room.     She 


400  THE  POLITICIAN 

had  heard  Cortis  pass  under  her  windows,  with 
Clenizzi,  and  had  come  down  at  once.  Lao  laid 
down  his  cue,  and  silently  beckoned  his  niece  to 
come  to  him  in  the  billiard-room. 

Elena  obeyed  with  beating  heart. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  ask  me?  "  he  said. 

"  I  was  waiting  for  you  to  speak,  uncle." 

"What's  the  use  of  that?  Are  you  not  more 
interested  than  I  ?  " 

Elena  answered  by  a  glance  so  grave,  and  so  sad, 
that  her  uncle  repented  of  his  rudeness,  and  said, 
hastily, — 

"  Well,  well.  Let  us  hope  it's  all  settled  now ; 
but  it  has  been  a  serious  matter." 

"All  settled!"  exclaimed  Elena.     "How?" 

"  Ah,  how  indeed !  there  will  be  no  prosecution, 
and  he  owes  no  money  now,  except  to  me." 

"  And  he  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

Elena  had  not  the  courage  to  ask  how  her  hus- 
band was.  Lao  certainly  had  something  to  say  to 
her,  as  he  did  not  demand  further  explanation. 

He  took  her  arm,  and,  drawing  her  towards  him, 
whispered, — 

"  Do  you  wish  to  know  how  much  it  has  cost 
me?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Elena,"  said  Signorina  Ziri- 
sela,  approaching  timidly.  She  called  Elena  al- 
ways by  her  Christian  name,  but  did  it  with  the 
manner  of  a  person  who  fears  to  take  a  liberty, 
"  the  countess  and  that  gentleman  are  asking  for 
you." 


TI^E  POLITICIAN  401 

"Go  along,"  said  the  count;  "we  will  have  our 
talk  later." 

Elena  hesitated. 

"Do  you  know  what  they  want?"  she  asked. 

The  signorina  had  not  understood  exactly.  Per- 
haps it  was  to  request  some  music.  They  w^ere  all 
talking,  at  any  rate,  in  the  room  where  the  piano 
was.  Elena  remarked  that  they  did  not  seem  to 
want  any  music.  She  was  still  in  doubt  when  her 
mother  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  hall  and 
called, — 

"Weh,  Elena?" 

She  obeyed  without  a  word,  and  Lao  turned  to 
continue  his  game  of  billiards. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  made  that  speech  after  all," 
said  Doctor  Picuti,  going  to  where  Cortis  was 
standing  and  blushing  very  hard. 

"  Never  mind  it  now,"  said  Cortis,  "  it's  over 
and  done  with." 

"  That  will  do ;  now  we  will  have  some  music," 
said  Countess  Tarquinia.  "  Elena,  come  and  play 
something!  " 

"Bravo,  bravo!"  said  Clenizzi,  in  a  low  voice, 
but  before  Elena  had  time  to  express  her  decided 
refusal,  Doctor  Picuti,  resolved  to  speak  at  any 
cost,  pushed  his  way  suddenly  into  the  circle,  and 
said  solemnly, — 

"  Will  you  allow  me,  countess ;  will  you  allow  me, 
deputy?  " 

Some  one  had  introduced,  most  inopportunely, 
the  subject  of  the  protest  made  by  the  electors 
against  Cortis,  and  Zirisela  had  muttered,  from  the 


402  THE  POLITICIAN 

card  table,  in  joke,  some  words  about  little  bellows 
producing  a  great  fire,  and  rather  hinting  that  Doc- 
tor Picuti  had  acted  the  part  of  the  bellows  in  the 
matter  of  the  protest. 

"  There's  neither  fire  nor  bellows  in  question," 
continued  Picuti. 

"Who  mentioned  you?"  asked  Zirisela. 

"  I  know  what  I  am  saying,"  retorted  the  other 
angrily.  "  I  know  what  sharp  tongues  we  have 
about  here,  and  how  they  set  to  work  to  ruin  an 
honest  man,  without  ever  mentioning  his  name." 

"  Ah,  Picuti,  Picuti !  "  broke  in  Don  Bartolo, 
"  the  hen  that  lays  the  egg  is  always  the  first  to 
cackle." 

"  Come,  come,  Bartolo."  grumbled  the  parish 
priest,  drumming  upon  the  table  with  his  cards, 
"  intende  animum  tiium  ad  liidiim." 

"  Yes,  yes,  ad  ludrum,  ad  ludrum,"  muttered  the 
chaplain,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  his  own  cards,  and 
fingering  them  one  by  one. 

Meanwhile  Doctor  Picuti,  after  having  retorted, 
, "  Hold  your  tongue,  you  who  can  generally  hold  it 
so  well,"  cried, — 

"  Signor  Cortis,  shall  I  tell  you  who  the  scoun- 
drels were  ?  " 

"  Well,  well,  what  next !  "  exclaimed  Zirisela,  put- 
ting down  his  cards,  and  turning  round  so  as  to 
face  the  speaker. 

"  Cortis  could  no  longer  restrain  himself  from 
silencing  them  all. 

"That  will  do,"  he  said,  "let  it  pass.     I  don't 


THE  POLITICIAN  403 

know  who  did  it,  and  I  don't  care.  I  bear  no 
malice  against  any  one.  And  besides,  you  electors 
under  the  old  law  are  all  dead  and  buried.  Why 
should  I  be  angry  with  you?  I  am  myself  more 
dead  and  buried  than  any  of  you." 

"What,  what!  "  they  all  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  dead  and  buried ;  and  that's  the  long 
and  short  of  it,"  answered  Cortis. 

."  Now  Picuti,  you  go  and  look  on  at  the  cards, 
and  Elena,  you  come  and  give  us  some  music." 

"  The  parish  priest,  Zirisela,  and  the  others  whis- 
pered together  for  a  minute,  while  Elena  shook  her 
head,  and  looked  at  Cortis  with  mute  entreaty  in 
her  eyes.  ' 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Doctor  Daniele,"  said 
Zirisela,  "but  you  have  not  resigned  your  seat?" 

"  No,  not  yet ;  but  I  mean  to  do  it  as  soon  as  I 
am  strong  enough  to  think  about  it;  I  shall  write 
what  I  intended  to  say." 

"  All  protested  except  the  priest  and  Signorina 
Zirisela.  Why?  Wherefore?  You  are  wrong! 
You  must  always  represent  us !  Even  the  priest- 
hater  Zirisela  looked  at  the  parish  priest  who  was 
silent  and  said  that  though  he  had  his  own  ideas, 
he  felt  when  certain  people  were  silent,  that  he  too 
must  cry,  "  Long  live  Doctor  Daniele,  by  Jove ! 
Long  live  our  deputy !  " 

"  I  am  not  silent  because  I  have  nothing  to  say !  " 
exclaimed  Doctor  Bartolo ;  "  but,  I  say,  countess, 
do  you  wish  us  to  drink  this  toast?  I  don't  know 
if  I  make  my  meaning  clear." 


404  THE  POLITICIAN 

"Quite  clear!"  yelled  Lao,  from  the  billiard- 
room. 

"  Well  done,  count !  You  understand  more  from 
a  nod  than  most  people  do  from  a  word !  Capital ! 
Just  one  little  glass !  " 

The  others  were  all  taken  aback  by  the  priest's 
indiscretion. 

"  Look  at  them !  "  he  exclaimed,  raising  his  voice 
so  as  to  be  heard  above  the  noise.  "  They  are  all 
pleased  at  my  suggestion,  countess.  And  yet  they 
abuse  me." 

Lao  appeared  at  the  door,  cue  in  hand. 

"  Is  this  the  sort  of  music  we  are  to  have  to- 
night ? "  he  asked. 

"  Come,  come,  baroness!  "  said  Clenizzi. 

Elena  made  a  gesture  of  entreaty,  but  without 
avail.  The  senator  insisted.  As  she  passed  tTortis 
she  whispered,  — 

"  Save  me ;  I  cannot  play." 

Cortis  called  to  Lao,  who  was  still  at  the  door, — 

"  You  play  first." 

"  I  ?     Likely !  "  and  he  turned  on  his  heels. 

Cortis  then  tried  Signorina  Zirisela,  but  she 
begged  to  be  excused ;  she  knew  so  little,  and  was 
so  out  of  practice.  But  here  fortunately  Papa  Ziri- 
sela intervened,  with  his  loud  voice  of  command. 

While  the  signorina  was  undergoing  her  torture, 
Cortis  turned  to  Elena,  and  asked  why  she  could 
not  play. 

"  I  am  tired,"  she  said,  "  and  besides,  before  all 


THE  POLITICIAN  405 

these  people!  If  we  two  were  alone,  perhaps  I 
would  play;  but  perhaps  not  even  in  that  case,"  she 
added,  after  a  pause. 

"  Why  not  even  then?  " 

"  Do  not  ask  me.  Perhaps  I  will  tell  you,  some- 
time, but  not  now.  You  must  ask  me  no  questions, 
do  you  see?  " 

She  furtively  seized  one  of  his  hands  and  pressed 
it  convulsively,  as  though  she  were  frightened 
Countess  Tarquinia,  hearing  her  whispers,  looked 
at  them  both.  Then  they  were  silent,  pretending 
to  listen  to  the  energetic  fingers  of  Signorina  Ziri- 
sela. 

They  both  felt  how  rapidly  the  bond  between 
them  was  tightening  as  the  hours  passed;  and  they 
thought  of  the  future,  Elena  with  terror,  Cortis 
with  sinister  presentiments.  Elena's  behaviour, 
too,  had  changed.  She  did  not  seem  to  care  so 
much  now  to  hide  her  feelings,  or  at  any  rate,  she 
succeeded  badly,  and  that  sufficed  to  inflame  Cor- 
tis's  passion.  Where  was  it  to  end?  Would  not 
the  moment  arrive  in  which  they  could  remain 
neither  divided  nor  united? 

They  were  the  only  people  who  did  not  applaud 
when  the  signorina  concluded  her  performance  with 
some  crashing  chords  on  the  piano.  Elena  noticed 
her  omission  too  late  to  rectify  it,  and  crossed  over 
to  thank  her.  The  senator,  coming  up  quietly  be- 
hind her,  renewed  his  entreaties. 

"  It  is  your  turn  now,  senator,"  said  Cortis,  in  a 


4o6  THE  POLITICIAN 

loud  voice.  "  You  have  told  me  that  you  used  to 
sing.  Let  us  have  that  little  bit  of  Pergolese  that 
Donna  Laura  sang  that  evening  in  Rome." 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  "  asked  the  senator.  "  It  is  you, 
baroness,  who  should  sing  that.  You  know  those 
charming  little  verses  which  were  sent  to  you  at 
Cefalu,  ""  Should  they  seek  to  discover.'  " 

But  Elena  could  not  sing;  she  had  never  had  any 
voice.  Lao,  who  had  entered  during  Signorina 
Zirisela's  piece,  sat  down  at  the  piano  without 
speaking,  and  began  to  pick  out  Pergolese's  melody, 
interrogating  Clenizzi  with  his  eyes. 

"  Bravo !  "  exclaimed  the  latter.  "  Bravo ! 
That's  it !  "  And  in  his  worn-out,  quavering  old 
voice,  he  began  to  sing, — 

"  Should  they  seek  to  discover." 

When  he  came  to  the  lines  — 

"Ah  no!   do  not  give  her 
Such    sorrow    for  me," 

he  developed  such  unexpected  power  that  Don  Bar- 
tolo,  who  was  still  playing  cards,  called  out,  "  Good 
dog!"  and  made  every  one  laugh,  while  Clenizzi 
continued  impertubably  — 

"He  wept  when  he  left  me, 
Your  answer  shall  be." 

Elena  alone  did  not  laugh.  She  asked  whose 
words  they  were  and  Clenizzi  broke  into  a  panegy- 
ric of  Metastasio,  praising  his  verses  to  the  sky; 


THE  POLITICIAN  407 

they  were  so  full  of  feeling,  so  full  of  music,  and 
then  with  Pergolese's  divine  melody !  — 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Lao,  getting  up,  "  these  few  old 
verses  are  worth  all  the  modern  stuff;  that  is  fit,  I 
won't  say  for  pigs,. for  I  esteem  them  too  highly, 
but  for  donkeys.  But  even  these  are  false,  you 
know,  false  to  the  very  marrow.  Beetroot  sugar ! 
One  can  distinguish  that  too  in  the  music.  Pretty, 
yes,  but  —  but  —  rather  effeminate,  I  think.  It 
seems  impossible  that  those  lines  should  have  been 
written  by  a  priest.  But  of  course  Metastasio  was 
only  a  mock  priest.  A  priest  should  feel  passion 
more  deeply  than  that !  " 

"What  will  he  say  next?"  exclaimed  Countess 
Tarquinia. 

"  Is  not  that  true,  Don  Bartolo?  "  asked  Lao. 

"What,  count?" 

"  That  when  a  priest  falls  in  love  he  gets  fran- 
tic." 

"  Three  aces !  "  answered  the  chaplain,  continu- 
ing his  game.  "  You're  too  bad,  count.  Three 
aces  —  three  aces !  " 

Lao  turned  to  Elena. 

"  Tell  me,  my  child,  would  a  man  who  loves, 
and  who  is  really  loved  in  return,  ever  leave  his 
mistress  for  the  sake  of  any  sentiment  whatever  — 
any  imaginary  duty  —  like  this  fellow  ?  What  is 
such  love  as  that  worth?  If  love  be  true,  not  even 
the  Code. can  stand  against  it!" 

"  Oh !  "  said  Cortis,  and  was  going  on  to  reply 
when  Lao  cut  him  short. 


4o8  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Don't  preach  theories  to  me,"  he  said,  "  I  am 
an  old  man,  and  know  the  world.  What  were  you 
going  to  say?  I  don't  believe  in  your  heroics. 
Rubbish !  They  are  all  so  stupid !  Out  of  three 
persons,  two  might  be  comfortable.  Not  a  bit  of 
it!  Your  hero,  the  fool,  must  needs  sacrifice  him- 
self, and  make  them  all  three  wretched?  won't  the 
wife  be  wretched?  and  won't  the  husband  be 
wretched  too  ?  This  being  heroic  is  against  nature, 
and  can  never  succeed.     The  devil !  " 

Then  Elena  said  in  a  hard  voice,  very  unlike  her 
usual  tone,  "  Before  doing  one's  duty,  one  ought 
then  to  look  and  see  what  will  result  from  it — • 
who  will  be  pleased,  and  who  displeased?" 

"  Certainly  in  affairs  of  this  kind  one  ought," 
answered  Lao. 

"  You  have  a  good  leaven  of  the  scamp  in  your 
composition !  "  said  Cortis,  laughing. 

"  And  do  you  think,"  asked  Elena,  "  that  Metas- 
tasio's  lover  was  right  in  telling  his  mistress  that  he 
must  go  away  for  ever  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  Cortis;  "if  he  thought  it  his 
duty  to  go  because  having  told  her,  it  would  be 
much  more  difficult  for  him  to  do  it." 

At  this  moment  the  game  of  cards  came  to  an 
end. 

Countess  Tarquinia  had  previously  ordered  some 
wine  to  be  brought. 

"  I  drink  to  our  representative!  "  exclaimed  Don 
Bartolo.    'And  so  said  all  the  others. 


THE  POLITICIAN  409 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Cortis;  "but  I  cannot 
accept  the  toast." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!"  exclaimed  Elena.  "From  me 
you  will,"  she  added,  in  a  low  voice. 

He  could  not  say  her  nay  at  that  moment,  and 
was  silent. 

"  I  drank  some  of  that  just  now,"  said  the  sena- 
tor.    "  There's  no  mistake  about  that  wine." 

"  Priest's  wine,  signor,"  observed  the  chaplain ; 
"  poor  priest's  wine !  You  can  recognize  it  where- 
ever  you  meet  it,  signor." 

The  conversation  suddenly  flagged.  Every  one 
began  tQ  say  good-night.  Even  before  the  room 
was  empty,  Lao  began  to  complain  of  the  stuffiness. 

"  Open  all  the  windows  for  ten  minutes,"  he  said 
to  his  sister-in-law. 

The  servants  came,  carried  away  the  lights,  and 
opened  the  windows.  Cortis  remained  alone  in 
the  room  enjoying  the  starlight,  and  the  freshness 
and  noise  of  the  wind.  He  had  perhaps  hoped  that 
Elena  would  stay  with  him,  but  she  had  gone  out 
with  her  uncle,  and  had  followed  him  to  the  farth- 
est of  the  four  sofas  in  the  hall,  while  Clenizzi, 
slowly  making  for  the  nearest,  had  sat  down  beside 
Countess  Tarquinia,  saying  with  a  sigh, — 

"  Ah,  countess,  Pergolese  is  a  good  thing,  but  oh ! 
that  cas onset! " 

"  Well,"  began  Lao,  in  a  low  voice,  "  everything 
has  been  arranged  as  you  wished.  The  only  piece 
of  news  I  have  is  that  he  is  not  going  to  America." 


4IO  THE  POLITICIAN 

Elena  seized  his  arm,  fixing  her  eyes  on  his  face. 

"  Have  you  not  some  friends  at  Yokohama?  "  he 
asked. 

Elena  left  go  of  his  arm,  and  made  no  reply,  al- 
though she  knew  perfectly  well  that  some  English 
relations  of  her  husband's  had  a  house  of  business 
there. 

"  Didn't  you  know  about  them  ?  "  continued  Lao. 
"  It  appears  that  there  are  some.  At  any  rate  he 
told  the  lawyer  so.  I  don't  know  how  it  all  came 
about,  but  I  believe  some  of  these  people  are  over 
in  Rome  now,  and  have  made  some  proposition  to 
him.  Perhaps  they  will  find  him  a  place.  You 
will  be  glad  of  that,  won't  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes!"  she  said. 

There  was  no  light  in  the  large  hall  save  such  as 
fell  from  the  lamps  upon  the  green  cloth  of  the 
billiard-table,  on  the  nine-pins,  and  on  the  white 
shining  balls.  All  the  rest  was  in  shadow,  and 
Elena  felt  more  courage  to  put  this  insincere  ques- 
tion,— 

"  Has  he  started  yet  ?  " 

"No.  At  least  I  do  not  think  so;  but  I  left 
Rome  five  days  ago,  and  have  just  come  from  Ber- 
gamo. You  see  I  wanted  money,  and  I  could  get  it 
at  Bergamo.  No,  he  has  certainly  not  started  yet. 
But  he  must  start  before  long,  because  the  lawyer 
has  arranged  with  all  the  creditors  to  wait  for  their 
pay  until  he  has  gone.  It  appears  that,  so  far,  he 
has  no  idea  on  whose  behalf  the  lawyer  is  acting. 
He  suspects  not  us,  but  the  government,  it  seems. 


THE  POLITICIAN  411 

Perhaps  Bog'lietti  has  not  discouraged  that  idea! 
Do  you  want  to  know,  now,  how  much  it  has  cost 
me?  " 

"  No,  uncle,  please  not,"  answered  Elena  getting 
up. 

"  Where  are  you  going  now  ?  "  asked  Lao. 

"  I  am  hot,"  she  said. 

She  went  out  into  the  garden  through  a  door 
which  stood  near. 

Away  to  the  west  the  great  planets  were  flaming 
over  the  black  mountains.  They  looked  as  they 
did  on  the  night  that  she  travelled  to  Rome,  on  her 
way  to  Sicily,  and  saw  them  out  of  the  railway  car- 
riage window,  pminous  lights  they  looked  glitter- 
ing among  their  fixed  splendour,  above  the  dark- 
ness, full  of  the  noise  of  wind  and  rushing  water. 
Elena  stopped  to  watch  them,  leaning  against  the 
doorpost.  Then  she  turned  away,  and  walking 
rapidly  to  the  left,  turned  the  corner  of  the  house, 
and  stopped  in  front  of  the  windows  of  the  music- 
room.     Cortis  appeared  immediately. 

"You  are  to  go  to  Rome,"  she  said;  "back  to 
the  Chamber." 

He  made  no  answer. 

"  For  my  sake,"  whispered  Elena,  without  look- 
ing at  him.  "  If  we  were  united,"  she  added,  "  you 
would  go.     I  should  wish  it." 

"  You  would  only  wish  what  is  good,"  he  an- 
swered, smiling.  "And  if  it  did  not  seem  good  to 
me,  I  would  not  listen  to  you." 

"  Certainly ;  but  this  is  good." 


412  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  am  not  sure.  At  any  rate,  I  must  wait  for 
the  general  election.  I  do  not  know  if  I  should  like 
to  return  to  the  Chamber  now." 

He  thought  for  a  minute,  and  then  continued,  in 
a   lower  voice, — 

"  All  the  same,  you  are  right ;  if  we  were  united, 
it  would  be  easier  for  me  to  return.  Some  men 
would  dream  of  living  here  on  love  and  intellect. 
Not  so  I.  I  should  live  on  love  and  fighting;  I 
should  like  you  to  witness  my  victories,  and  to  com- 
fort me  in  my  defeats.  I  should  throw  myself 
blindfold  into  the  struggle  alone,  like  Don  Quixote. 
Oh,  what  a  life  that  would  be!  —  what  a  life, 
Elena !     Wait." 

He  swung  himself  on  to  the  window-sill,  and 
thence  down  to  where  she  was  standing,  and 
dragged  her  off  towards  the  meadows. 

"  I  feel  myself  bubbling  over  with  strength  to- 
night," he  said ;  "  like  the  days  of  convalescence  in 
my  first  youth.  I  would  certainly  return  to  Rome 
and  active  politics  if  I  had  any  hope  that  we  should 
live  there  side  by  side,  as  we  do  here.  Not  other- 
wise. If  you  return  to  Cefalu,  I  fear  that  I  shall 
stay  at  Villascura." 

"  And  w'hat  if  I  stopped  here  w^ith  mamma  and 
Uncle  Lao?" 

"  I  think  I  should  go,  because  you  would  still  be 
near  me,  more  or  less.  And  that  will  be  so,  will  it 
not  ?     You  will  stay  with  them  ?  " 

She  pressed  his  arm,  almost  laying  her  head  on 
his  shoulder,  as  she  whispered, — 


THE  POLITICIAN  413 

"  Should  you  be  glad  if  I  did?  " 

Cortis  turned  her  face  toward  his  and  looked 
into  her  eyes.  She  closed  them  immediately,  and 
walked  on  blindly,  her  heart  beating,  when,  sud- 
denly hearing  a  voice  at  the  windows  of  the  room 
they  had  just  left  she  raised  her  head  quickly, 
dreading  even  in  the  darkness  lest  any  human  eye 
should  see  her  in  this  attitude  of  self-abandonment. 
There  was  a  light  again  in  the  music-room. 

"Shall  we  go  in?"  she  asked,  stopping  in  her 
walk. 

She  returned  alone,  while  Cortis  made  a  long 
round  to  the  left,  so  as  to  reach  the  fir-trees  without 
passing   the   door. 

Elena  felt  ill  when  she  left  him  —  more  ill  than 
she  had  ever  felt  before. —  she  did  not  recognize 
herself ;  she  seemed  to  be  floating  on  the  current  of 
her  own  desires,  which  would  soon  become  so 
mighty  that  it  would  carry  her  aw^ay  altogether. 
Her  confidence  spoke  to  her  and  said :  "  This  is 
the  supreme  moment;  save  yourself,"  but  suddenly 
an  indistinct  flame  of  love,  of  alarm,  of  remorse, 
seemed  to  show  her  that  she  had  already  taken  the 
first  step  down  the  incline,  if  only  in  thought,  and 
that  now  she  must  go  on,  powerless  to  stop  herself. 
She  burst  into  the  hall,  fleeing  from  her  misery. 
There  was  no  one  there.  Lao,  Clenizzi,  and  the 
countess  had  returned  to  the  music-room,  where  the 
former  was  playing  the  air  from  the  "  Olimpiad  " 
with  juvenile  vigour,  while  the  senator  wailed  out 
the  words : — 


414  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Should  they  seek  to  discover 
Where  now  is  your  friend, 
Your    unhappy    lover, 

Say,  '  Death  was  his  end.' 

"  Ah,  no !  do  not  give  her 
Such  sorrow  for  me ; 
'  He  wept  when  he  left  me,' 
Your  answer  shall  be." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  POEM  OF  SHADOW  AND  OF  LIFE 

The  next  day  at  luncheon,  it  was  decided  to  take 
Senator  Clenizzi  to  Cortis's  gardens,  returning  to 
Villa  Carre  by  way  of  Caodemuro.  At  one  o'clock 
Elena  was  siting  in  her  room  near  the  open  win- 
dow listening  involuntarily  to  every  step  that 
passed  in  the  garden  beneath.  As  she  thought,  a 
hope  very,  very  slowly,  made  its  way  into  her 
heart.  She  dared  not  entertain  it,  and  chased  it 
away  at  once ;  then,  calling  it  back  again,  she  rested 
herself  with  it  for  an  instant  just  long  enough  to 
feel  how  soft  and  refreshing  such  rest  was.  What 
if  her  husband  did  not  really  know  what  to  do  with 
her,  what  if  he  only  wanted  to  test  her?  No,  no; 
she  would  not  allow  herself  to  think  of  that  as  yet ; 
it  was  too  early.  But  supposing  the  letter  did  not 
come  to-day?  Supposing  it  did  not  come  to-mor- 
row? According  to  Lao,  her  husband's  departure 
could  not  be  long  delayed.  However,  she  must 
wait  some  days  before  even  allowing  herself  to 
hope ;  but  supposing  the  letter  did  not  come  even 
the  day  after  to-morrow?  Then,  indeed,  she  might 
hope  it  would  not  come  at  all. 

The  post  was  late  that  day.  Clenizzi  and  Cortis 
were  walking  up  and  down  the  garden  in  front  of 

415 


4i6  THE  POLITICIAN 

the  Villa.  Cortis  looked  often  at  Elena's  window, 
listening  but  carelessly  to  his  companion's  chatter. 
Elena  did  not  appear.  Towards  half-past  one  Lao 
came  instead,  dressed,  as  usual,  in  his  great  coat. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "are  you  going  or  not? 
It  you  don't  start  at  once  I  shall  stay  at  home." 

Elena  was  called,  who  said  she  would  like  to 
wait  a  little  longer.  Her  uncle  completely  lost  his 
temper,  and  Countess  Tarquinia  cried  from  her 
window,  "  What  are  you  about  that  you  don't 
start  ?  "  Poor  Clenizzi,  not  knowing  what  to  do, 
began  to  accuse  himself  of  having  caused  all  this 
trouble,  and  protested  that  he  would  willingly  stay 
at  home,  and  that  he  had  never  seen  a  more  beauti- 
ful place.  Cortis  asked  Elena  if  she  were  still  so 
anxious  about  the  post.  She  withdrew  from  the 
window,  near  which  she  had  been  standing,  and 
answered,  from  inside  her  room,  — 

"  I  am  coming." 

They  started,  Lao  leading  the  way,  alone,  with 
his  head  down,  and  grumbling;  then  Clenizzi  be- 
side Elena,  and,  last  of  all,  Cortis.  There  was  no 
cloud  in  the  limpid  blue  sky,  and  the  April  breeze 
scarcely  sufficed  to  stir  the  grass  which  bowed  its 
head  as  though  tired  with  too  much  life.  Cortis 
and  Clenizzi  were  laughing  at  the  funereal  aspect  of 
their  leader. 

"  There's  a  cloud !  "  cried  Cortis. 

Lao  turned  round. 

"  Of  course  there  is !  "  he  said.  "  Fancy  bring- 
ing me  out  in  this  abominable  weather !     Can't  you 


THE  POLITICIAN  417 

see  that  it  will  rain  in  a  moment?  A  politician, 
though,  can  see  nothing !  " 

Cortis  laughed  aloud.  Elena,  still  silent,  looked 
at  him  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  him  think  she 
was  displeased  at  his  merriment,  and  he  replied 
with  another  look,  very  serious,  almost  melancholy. 
She  guessed  what  was  passing  through  his  mind, 
and  smiled  slily  at  him,  while  the  other  two  began 
a  conversation  about  politicians. 

"  I  can  stand  that  one  and  no  other,"  said  Lao 
to  Clenizzi,  pointing  to  Cortis.  "  Even  he  is  tire- 
some at  times,  but  not  so  bad  as  the  others,  who 
look  at  one  as  if  they  had  the  burden  of  the  world, 
and  as  if  they,  ,the  beasts  of  burden,  were  more 
honourable  than  we  who  let  them  do  it.  We  are 
pulling  you  to  pieces  now !  "  he  cried,  turning  to 
Daniele ;  "  we  are  abusing  you,  we  are  turning  you 
out  of  Italy  with  our  hands  and  feet,  there,  out  of 
your  own  place;  your  fine  words  are  all  very  well 
in  the  Chamber!  Learn  political  economy  from 
practice,  there;  it's  much  better  than  what  you  get 
from  books !  And  if  you  suffer  from  the  mania  of 
socialism,  or  of  Christian  democracy,  test  your 
theories  upon  men,  and  don't  go  up  in  a  balloon  to 
test  them  upon  the  clouds !     There,  there !  " 

Every  time  he  said  "  there,"  he  struck  his  stick 
violently  against  the  ground. 

"  There's  the  postman !  "  exclaimed  Cortis. 

Elena  stopped,  and  a  slight  shiver  betrayed  her 
emotion.  The  postman  also  stopped,  and  fumbled 
in  his  bag. 


4i8  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  A  letter  for  you,  Signor  Count,"  he  said. 

"  Keep  it !  "  answered  Lao,  raising  his  stick ; 
"  letters  and  stones  are  one  and  the  same  to  me." 

The  man  laughed,  and  dodged  him  as  he  handed 
him  his  letter.  Then  he  found  one  for  Cortis,  who 
looked  at  the  handwriting,  and  stood  surprised  and 
frowning,  and  at  last  he  turned  to  Elena,  and  again 
searched  his  bag. 

"One  for  me?"  she  said.  And  she  suddenly 
felt  a  sensation,  as  of  an  electric  shock,  a  spasm 
which  semed  to  deprive  her  of  life.  She  took  the 
letter  offered  to  her,  and  looked  at  it;  it  was  the 
one  she  expected;  her  first  and  only  thought,  was 
how  not  to  betray  herself! 

She  tried  to  say,  "  Thank  you,"  but  could  not ; 
and,  turning  her  back  upon  the  others,  she  gazed 
at  the  mountains. 

"  Beautiful  view !  "  said  the  senator,  coming  up 
to  her. 

She  turned  suddenly  round.  Cortis,  who  was 
reading  his  letter,  raised  his  eyes  to  her,  looked  at 
her  for  a  moment,  and  walked  rapidly  towards  her. 
She  turned  her  face  away,  and  said  to  the  senator, — 

"  Let  us  go  on." 

Clenizzi  immediately  started  beside  her,  and  did 
not  leave  her  until  they  reached  the  lawn  at 
Cortis's  house,  where  Lao  called  him  away  to  the 
north  terrace. 

"  Elena,"  said  Cortis,  stopping. 

It  was  not  a  voice  of  comm.and  or  entreaty;  it 
was  the  tranquil,  resolute  voice,  which  she  never 


THE  POLITICIAN  419 

could  help  obeying  at  once,  in  whatsoever  place,  or 
at  whatsoever  time.  She  had  already  taken  a  step 
in  pursuit  of  Clenizzi ;  she  stopped  short  now. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing." 

"Do  you  feel  ill?" 

"No,  oh,  no!" 

Cortis  looked  at  her  in  silence. 

"  Some  misfortune  ?  "  he  said  quickly. 

"Oh  no!" 

This  last  "  no  "  was  said  so  softly !  Elena  raised 
her  eyes,  as  if  against  her  will,  to  Daniele's  face, 
with  a  sweet,  sad  expression,  a  timid,  mute  request 
in  them.  Was  he  angry  with  her  for  answering 
so  drily,  as  if  she  had  no  confidence  in  him?  He 
was  not  angry,  but  very  grave  and  sad. 

"Let  us  go  over  to  the  house,  shall  we?"  cried 
Lao. 

Cortis  had  to  give  orders  to  have  the  house 
opened  and  shown  to  Clenizzi.  They  all  went  into 
the  hall,  and  descended  into  th=e  French  garden, 
where  they  loitered  about  the  fountain.  Cortis 
thought  that  enough,  but  Lao  exclaimed, — 

"  We  must  see  everything,  everything." 

Elena  stopped  in  the  hall. 

"  I  will  wait  for  you  here,"  she  said. 

She  remained  alone,  motionless,  listening  to  the 
voices  as  they  died  away  among  the  empty  rooms. 
When  she  knew  they  were  a  long  way  off,  she 
pulled  out  the  letter  hastily,  opened  it,  looked  hur- 
riedly at  the  last  few  words,  and  replaced  it  in  her 


420  THE  POLITICIAN 

book.  Then,  as  the  distant  voices  were  not  re- 
turning, she  took  it  out  again  very  slowly,  and  read 
through  the  four  closely-written  pages,  raising  her 
head  frequently  to  listen.  When  she  had  finished 
reading,  she  folded  her  hands  on  her  breast. 

"Oh,  my  God!"  she  said. 

She  heard  steps  and  voices  approaching,  and 
rushing  from  the  hall,  she  seated  herself  upon  the 
stairs  leading  to  the  garden,  behind  the  door,  so 
as  to  be  out  of  sight.  She  seated  herself  there  in 
front  of  the  lilies  and  roses,  now  all  in  flower,  and 
the  green  slope  of  the  hill,  the  fountain,  seemed  to 
her,  as  did  the  flowers,  to  be  the  real  pure  joy  of 
earth.  Oh,  God !  how  her  heart  beat,  how  furiously 
it  kept  repeating,  no !  no !  no ! 

Meanwhile  the  others  entered  the  hall.  Cortis 
was  saying, 

"  Well !  perhaps  I  shall  be  that  madman !  " 

Elena  jumped  to  her  feet  and  joined  them. 

"What  madman?"  she  asked. 

"  A  madman  who  will  return  to  Rome,"  an- 
swered Lao  in  a  fury ;  "  who  will  throw  himself 
headlong  into  politics  again.  I  hope  he'll  leave  his 
skin  there;  it  will  serve  him  right." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Elena. 

Cortis  smiled. 

"I  shall  often  come  here,"  he  said,  "  very  often,  to 
renew  my  courage,  my  hope,  and  my  life." 

His  eyes  met  those  of  Elena.  She  understood 
perfectly  what  he  meant,  and  gave  herself  up  to 
the  thought  of  not  going,  of  living  near  him  for 


THE  POLITICIAN  421 

ever;  and  in  so  doing  she  experienced  a  delicious 
repose,  a  sweetness  that  penetrated  her,  renewing 
every  nerve  of  her  body,  giving  her  intense  dehght 
in  all  that  she  saw  and  heard;  in  the  verdure,  the 
flowers,  the  fountain,  even  in  the  air  she  breathed. 

"  Have  you  had  a  letter  ?  "  asked  Cortis,  opening 
the  wooden  gate  for  her  that  leads  into  the  garden 
from  a  courtyard. 

"  1?"  answered  Elena,  taken  by  surprise ;  and 
her  heart  ached  again. 

"  He  told  me  you  had,"  replied  her  cousin, 
pointing  to  Clenizzi,  who  was  walking  with  Lao. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  trembling. 

She  did  not  look  at  Cortis,  but  she  felt  the  shock 
he  had  received.  Her  brief  intoxication  left  her  as 
soon  as  she  heard  him  mention  the  letter.  In  its 
place  she  had  now  only  the  imperious  reality,  the 
picture  of  her  miserable  position,  of  her  duty. 

"  I  said  the  weather  was  going  to  change,"  said 
Lao.     "What  do  yt)u  all  think?" 

White  clouds  were  coming  up  behind  the  peak  of 
Passo  Grande,  over  the  branches  of  the  fir  trees, 
which  grew  thickly  in  front  and  to  the  left  of  the 
gate;  the  sun  shone  less  brightly  on  the  small  open 
space,  on  the  little  path  that  winds  and  loses  itself 
in  the  mysteries  of  the  wood,  in  that  poem  of 
shadow  and  of  life.  Lao  stopped  at  the  gate  to 
look  at  the  clouds;  Elena,  meanwhile,  walked  on 
slowly  towards  the  wood,  hoping  that  the  others 
would  turn  back  without  her.  She  would  have 
liked  to  lose  herself  there  for  hours  and  hours,  be- 


422  THE  POLITICIAN 

fore  coming  to  any  decision,  thinking  how  she 
could  defend  herself  against  him  who  wanted  to 
know  her  trouble!  He  had  said  the  previous  even- 
ing: "  If  that  person  thought  it  his  duty  to  go  away 
for  ever,  he  would  have  been  right  in  not  telling 
his  intention  to  his  mistress;  because  then  his  duty 
would  have  become  too  hard !  "  And  now,  how 
could  she  avoid  telling  him?  It  would  have  been 
better,  nay  easy,  during  their  walk ;  but  now ! 

Her  uncle,  who  had  stopped  to  discuss  the 
weather  with  Cortis,  cried  after  her :  "  Elena !  To 
the  column!"  Could  they  not  leave  her  alone? 
They  caught  up  with  her  on  the  path  that  rises  to 
the  left  under  the  great  chestnuts  and  the  delicate 
acacias,  and  from  there  winds  round  the  hillock, 
amongst  the  bare  trunks  of  the  firs  and  the  pine 
trees.  Cortis  still  questioned  her  with  his  eyes,  but 
he  could  not  speak.  Only  once,  when  Lao  and 
Clenizzi  were  admiring  the  highest  of  the  pine 
trees,  he  whispered, — 

"  You  must  tell  me  all,  you  know." 

She  looked  at  him  with  that  dark  fire  in  her  eyes, 
that  was  always  there  when  she  knew  that  she  could 
look  at  him  unobserved,  and  answered, — 

"  If  I  do  not  tell  you,  you  must  never  think  — " 

Her  voice  failed  her. 

"  What  ?  "  he  asked ;  but  Lao  called  him  and  he 
could  not  wait  for  her  answer. 

The  devil  I  Signor  Daniele  might  really  do  the 
honours  of  his  own  park!  Clenizzi  was  enthusi- 
astic over  it.     The  damp,  soft  smell  of  spring,  the 


THE  POLITICIAN  423 

silence,  the  fresh  green,  and  even  the  constant 
clouding  and  reappearing  of  the  sun,  delighted  his 
still  youthful  heart.  "A  canto  of  Ariosto!"  he 
said.  That  hollow  down  there  to  the  left,  sur- 
rounded with  woods,  between  the  hill  and  that  big 
mountain,  and  that  dark  valley  over  there,  close 
by  the  hollow,  were  they  in  the  park?  Yes.  And 
what  was  that  village  in  the  sunlight,  over  there  — 
they  could  just  see  it  through  the  trees,  with  its 
white  church?  Caodemuro.  And  what  was  that 
noise  of  running  water?  The  Posena.  And  the 
lake?  Wasn't  there  a  lake  in  the  park?  Yes,  but 
they  could  not  see  it  from  there;  it  was  some  dis- 
tance off  in  the  woods. 

"And  the  strawberries,"  said  Lao;  "don't  you 
see  the  strawberry  flowers  over  there?  " 

Clenizzi  stooped  and  picked  a  little  wild  straw- 
berry.    But  where  was  Donna  Elena  ? 

"  We  have  lost  Angelica,"  said  he. 

" '  She  flees  through  sad  and  darksome  woods, 
Through  deserts,  and  through  savage  haunts.' " 

But  Elena  had  not  fled.  She  had  walked  on 
ahead,  and  was  waiting  for  the  others  under  the  old 
chestnut  tree,  close  by  the  open  space  in  which  stood 
the  column. 

"  Alas !  "  said  the  gallant  senator,  offering  her 
the  strawberry  he  had  picked ;  "  this  is  too  bitter  as 
yet,  and  I  am  too  ripe." 

Lao  complained  jokingly  of  ladies  who  made 
their  knights  pant,  then  he  signed  to  her  to  let  the 
others  pass,  and  wait  for  him. 


424  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  What  a  face !  "  he  said. 

"  Can  I  be  gay,  uncle?  " 

"Why  not?" 

She  said  that  if  she  seemed  iU  at  ease  and  silent, 
it  was  perhaps  the  effect  of  the  spring  and  the 
country,  which  caused  her  great  but  silent  pleasure. 
Then  she  rejoined  Cortis  and  Clenizzi  on  the  path 
that  wound  round  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  Cortis 
had  turned  towards  her,  in  order  to  point  out  to 
Clenizzi,  through  the  thick  firs  and  pine  trees,  the 
reddish  rocks  of  Corno  Ducale. 

"  Beautiful  —  beautiful !  "  exclaimed  the  senator. 

But,  according  to  Lao,  that  view  was  nothing 
compared  with  the  view  over  to  the  east,  under  the 
boughs  of  the  chestnut,  towards  Villascura,  While 
the  senator  looked  at  the  villa  and  the  French  gar- 
den at  his  feet,  the  ruin-covered  rock  on  which  the 
church  is  built,  and  the  green  valley  stretching  far 
away  to  the  distance,  Elena  whispered  to  Daniele, 
completing  her  broken  sentence, — 

"  You  must  not  think  that  I  love  you  less." 

He  knew  it;  but  every  time  her  sweet  lips  said 
it  to  him,  it  gave  him  a  fresh  joy,  an  extacy  that 
ran  through  every  fibre.  He  raged  because  he 
could  not  at  least  take  her  hand,  and  beg  her  to 
tell  him  the  contents  of  that  mysterious  letter.  She 
must  share  all  her  troubles  with  him,  must  trust 
him,  even  hope  in  him,  because  he  felt  himself 
strong  enough  to  help  her  with  advice  or  assistance 
in  all  her  difficulties.  His  eyes  said  all  this,  and 
she    understood    their   language.     Her    determina- 


THE  POLITICIAN  425 

tion  left  her.  She  thought  that,  had  they  been 
alone,  she  would  have  laid  her  head  on  his  breast, 
and  have  told  him  all.  Never  had  he  or  she  suf- 
fered from  not  being  alone  as  much  as  at  that  mo- 
ment. 

"  Did  you  hear,"  he  said,  "  that  perhaps  I  am 
going  back  to  Rome  ?  " 

Then  his  lips  formed  these  words,  without,  how- 
ever, uttering  them, — 

"  For  your  sake." 

And  when  he  showed  Clenizzi  the  ancient 
column,  brought  there  from  the  Baths  of  Caracalla, 
and  read  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion  the  Latin  in- 
scription, Elena  understood  that  he  was  reading  it 
to  her,  that  he  was  saying  to  her :  "  In  winter,  and 
in  summer,  from  near  and  from  far,  as  long  I  live, 
and  beyond  that  again.  Usque  dum  vivani  et 
ultra."     Mysterious  words,  full  of  meaning. 

Clenizzi  wanted  the  history  of  the  inscription, 
but  either  Cortis  did  not  know  or  would  not  tell. 

How  worth}^  of  envy  were  those  two  hands  so 
firmly  joined  together.  •  No  hostile  world  would 
be  able  to  discover  either  the  name  or  countenance 
of  those  who  had  loved  each  other  so  dearly ! 

"  Come  along !  "  said  Lao ;  "  we  got  hot  with 
walking,  and  now  we  "shall  catch  cold  up  here. 
Those  two  hands  joined  there  always  disgust  me. 
I  hope  every  time  whenever  I  come  here  I  shall,  find 
one  of  them  alone.  It's  going  to  rain  in  a  moment. 
That  will  never  do !  " 

It  did  not  seem  as  if  it  would  really  rain  immedi- 


426  THE  POLITICIAN 

ately,  but  the  sky  had  clouded  over  by  the  time  the 
party  had  descended  into  the  green  valley  between 
the  hill  and  the  mountain,  towards  the  big  lime- 
tree  that  Elena  loved  so  much.  She  could  not  trust 
herself  to  look  at  it  now.  Cortis  had  suggested 
that  they  should  go  down  as  far  as  the  path  leading 
through  the  horn-beams  to  the  lake.  The  path, 
broken  away  here  and  there,  was  not  very  easy. 
Elena  and  Cortis  started,  but  Lao,  after  grumbling 
a  good  deal,  and  putting  out  and  drawing  back  first 
one  foot  and  then  the  other,  tried  the  ground  with 
his  stick  and  finished  by  declaring  that  Clenizzi  and 
he  would  not  come  that  w^ay,  they  would  turn  off 
to  the  right,  meeting  the  others  further  along  the 
horn-beam  path.  Elena  was  seized  with  a  sudden 
fit  of  trembling;  she  felt  herself  growing  dizzy,  and 
her  thoughts  getting  confused. 

"  At  last !  "  whispered  Cortis,  turning  to  her  with. 
shining  eyes ;  he  was  silenced  by  the  expression  that 
he  saw  in  the  distressed  look  that  met  his,  and  by 
the  whole  exhausted  appearance  of  his  companion. 
He  passed  an  arm  around  her,  and  Elena  leaned 
against  him,  silent  and  trembling,  and  still  gazing  at 
him  with  a  fixed  glance.  He  implored  her  anx- 
iously to  speak,  to  trust  him,  but  she  could  not  as 
yet.  She  placed  one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  bent 
her  despairing  eyes  downwards,  and,  hiding  her 
face,  said  slowly, — 

"  I  must  go  away." 

"Oh!"  she  said,"  but  only  for  a  short  time?" 
He  realised  fully  that  it  was  not  to  be  for  a  short 


THE  POLITICIAN  427 

time  only ;  nevertheless  he  was  not  prepared  for  the 
two  terrible  words. 

"For  ever!" 

He  made  no  reply,  pressing  her  convulsively  to 
his  breast. 

"  But  perhaps  I  shall  not  be  able,"  she  said. 

He  still  made  no  answer,  throwing  his  other  arm 
around  her. 

Elena  raised  her  face  and  her  eyes  looked  hap- 
pier. 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  not  be  able,"  she  repeated, 
"  perhaps  I  shall  stay  here."  Her  mute,  timid  pas- 
sion made  her  speak,  trembling  though  she  was. 
She  was  less  deadly  pale,  and  a  vague  smile  flickered 
in  her  eyes.  She  feared  to  have  pained  him  too 
much. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  without  relaxing  his 
grasp,  "of  course  you  must  stay;  how  could  you 
have  thought  of  going  away  for  ever!  how  could 
you  say  such  a  thing?  how  could  you  think  I  would 
ever  allow  you  to  go  ?  " 

A  slight  movement  that  she  made  to  free  her- 
self was  obeyed  at  once.  Then  she  laid  her  head 
on  his  shoulder. 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  mentioned  it,"  she  said. 
"  You  yourself  had  advised  silence." 

"  I?  " 

"  Yes ;  yesterday  evening,  when  I  asked  you 
whether  that  person  in  the  song  who  meant  to  go 
away  had  done  well  to  mention  it,  and  you,  you  an- 
swered me  —  that  he  had  done  wrong." 


428  THE  POLITICIAN 

Elena's  voice  was  broken  by  sobs,  her  whole  body 
was  shaken,  and  she  left  her  head  closely  pressed 
against  his  shoulder.  She  could  hardly  pronounce 
the  last  words. 

"  PERHAPS,  I  said.  He  would  not  have  done 
rio-ht  if — "  He  did  not  finish  his  sentence,  not 
caring  to  say :  if  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  go.  He 
remained  silent,  seeming  struck  by  some  new 
thought. 

"Do  you  see?"  said  Elena.  Cortis  protested 
violently.  He  had  answered  badly,  the  previous 
evening,  if  indeed  he  had  answered  thus.  Was  she 
going  to  be  moved  by  a  word  thrown  out  at  ran- 
dom, without  reflection,  without  his  having  any 
means  of  guessing  that  she  was  going  to  take  it  to 
herself  as  a  piece  of  advice? 

"  Tell  me  everything,"  he  said. 

She  gazed  a  moment  at  the  grassy  slope  near  her. 

Cortis  offered  to  help  her  to  sit  down.  She  an- 
swered, with  a  shake  of  the  head,  that  she  would 
rather  not,  and  remained  standing,  her  hands  within 
his,  and  her  eyes  cast  down.  She  opened  her  lips 
two  or  three  times  as  though  longing  to  speak,  but 
her  voice  died  away.  Meanwhile,  he  waited  anx- 
iously. 

Nothing  could  be  heard  except  the  gurgling  of 
the  stream  below  them  among  the  black  rocks 
and  the  water-lilies,  and  the  pattering  of  small  rain- 
drops upon  the  leaves  of  the  acacias.  A  few  drops 
made  their  way  through  to  where  they  were  stand- 
ing, but  neither  of  them  noticed. 


THE  POLITICIAN  429 

At  last  she  shook  her  head  and  said, — 

"  I  cannot  now." 

Cortis  sighed. 

"  The  letter  was  from  your  husband?  "  he  asked. 
"  Is  it  he  who  wishes  to  take  you  away  from  here  ?  " 

Elena  nodded. 

"But  for  ever?     What  does  that  mean?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  "  you  cannot  understand  it 
now ;  I  will  explain  it  to  you." 

They  were  both  silent.  After  the  lapse  of  a  few 
minutes,  Elena  remarked  that  they  ought  to  go  on, 
so  as  not  to  keep  the  others  waiting.  They  started 
without  another  word,  she  in  front,  he  behind. 
But  Elena  soon  ^topped,  and,  turning  to  him,  said 
in  a  trembling  voice, — 

"You  are  not  angry?" 

In  answer  he  seized  her  icy  hands  and  pressed 
his  lips  upon  them. 

Again  Elena  stopped  and  turned,  looking  at  him 
with  glistening  eyes.  Without  speaking,  she  tried 
to  smile. 

They  found  nobody  in  the  horn-beam  path,  for 
the  others  no  doubt  had  gone  on  ahead.  They 
turned  to  the  left,  towards  the  lake,  and  when  they 
came  to  the  end  of  the  dark  walk,  and  found  them- 
selves in  the  bright  daylight,  standing  by  the  shin- 
ing mirror  of  the  lake,  they  stopped.  Silence  and 
loneliness;  not  a  creature  to  be  seen,  not  a  voice  to 
be  heard.  Seeing  that  the  grass  was  wet,  Elena 
noticed,  for  the  first  time,  that  it  had  been  raining. 
It  had  stopped  now;  the  water  lay  hushed  and  mo- 


430  THE  POLITICIAN 

tionless.  Certainly  Uncle  Lao  must  have  gone 
home. 

Elena  seated  herself  upon  the  trunk  of  the  tree 
on  which  she  had  sat  the  previous  day,  and  did  not 
even  notice  that  it  was  damp.  She  was  so  tired! 
Leaning  her  right  elbow  on  her  knee,  and  her  chin 
on  the  palm  of  her  hand,  she  gazed  at  the  water. 
The  cloud-capped  mountain,  the  horn-beams,  the 
grasses  growing  on  the  bank,  and  she  herself,  a 
dumb,  despairing  figure,  all  seemed  to  bow  before 
the  mystery  of  the  deep  water,  and  to  interrogate  its 
silence. 

"  Will  you  speak  now  ?  "  asked  Cortis  gently. 
She  shook  her  head.  Cortis  seated  himself  near 
her. 

"  I  love  you  too  much,"  she  said  in  a  tired  voice, 
keeping  her  gaze  fixed  upon  the  water ;  "  I  am  too 
weak.  No,  no !  "  she  immediately  added,  fearing, 
from  an  exclamation  of  Cortis,  that  she  had  been 
misunderstood.  "  I  do  not  mean  in  that  sense !  I 
am  not  afraiu  of  that.  I  know  that  you  are  so  no- 
ble, so  strong;  I  do  not  fear  to  be  too  weak  in  that 
sense.  I  mean  that  I  have  not  strength  to  speak. 
I  think  that,  if  I  do  speak,  all  will  be  finished,  and 
I  must  go  away  and  not  see  you  any  more." 

She  suddenly  grasped  both  his  hands,  and  called, 
half  stifled  with  passion, 

"Daniele!     Daniele!" 

He  gently  forced  himself  from  her  embrace,  to 
go  a  few  steps  along  the  path  and  see  if  anybody 


THE  POLITICIAN  431 

was  coming.  No.  Then  he  returned  to  her  with 
outstretched  hands. 

"  Let  us  go,"  he  said. 

She  rose  obediently,  trying  to  read  what  was 
written  on  his  resolute  face.  Cortis  took  her  arm, 
and  drew  her  away  towards  a  side  path. 

"  You  must  be  strong,"  he  said.  "  You  must 
tell  me  everything,  absolutely  everything,  and  at 
once." 

She  trembled,  and  made  no  answer. 

He  repeated :  "  At  once !  " 

''Must  I  really?"  she  asked;  "must  I  really?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Cortis.  "  What  has  your  hus- 
band written  ?  "  ' 

She  obeyed,  fascinated  as  usual  by  his  voice,  and 
forced  herself  to  begin  her  miserable  story.  She 
had  to  stop  several  times  to  gain  strength  to  go  on 
with  her  narrative,  because  her  trembling  seemed 
to  choke  her.  She  could  not  tell  her  story  con- 
nectedly; and  lost  the  thread,  forgetting  first  one 
thing  and  then  another.  They  walked  very  slowly, 
she  with  her  head  bent,  her  hands  clasping  and  un- 
clasping themselves  with  a  nervous  movement  of 
her  arms;  he,  somewhat  bent  but  cold,  looked 
straight  ahead  of  him.  interrupting  her  now  and 
again  with  some  brief  question.  At  the  last  turn 
in  the  path,  as  Elena  was  describing  her  nocturnal 
interview  with  her  husband  in  the  Via  delle  Muratte, 
the  solemn  promise  she  had  given,  and  the  scene 
with  the  revolver,  he  stopped  short,  and  listened  to 


432  THE  POLITICIAN 

her  in  silence,  until  she  told  him  of  the  last  letter 
written  by  her  to  the  baron  before  she  left  Rome. 

"  And  the  answer  came  to-day  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  Give  it  to  me." 

Cortis  took  the  letter  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket 
without  reading  it. 

"  Now  I  have  got  it,"  he  said,  answering  Elena's 
questioning  glance.  "  I  will  read  it  later  on,  when 
I  am  alone,  and  quiet." 

He  continued  his  walk  without  adding  a  single 
word  upon  the  subject  of  what  he  had  just  heard. 
A  few  steps  from  the  gate  of  the  house  they  met  a 
labourer  coming  in  search  of  them.  Count  Lao 
and  another  gentleman  were  in  the  house,  waiting 
for  the  carriage  from  the  Villa  Carre.  Cortis 
wished  Elena  to  wait  and  let  them  see  her,  and  made 
her  sit  down. 

"  I  too  had  a  letter  from  Rome,"  he  said,  after  a 
pause. 

"  My  friends  want  a  distinct  answer,  yes  or  no, 
about  the  editorship  of  the  newspaper." 

She  said  nothing,  and  he  stopped  speaking.  Just 
then  the  sun  shone  out  brilliantly,  as  it  often  does 
when  it  has  been  raining,  and  means  to  rain  again. 

"  There  is  too  much  sun  for  you  here,"  he  said, 
"Shall  we  go?" 

He  almost  lifted  her  from  the  ground.  Elena 
walked  with  great  difficulty,  leaning  heavily  upon 
the  arm  of  her  cousin,  who  said  to  her,  as  they 
reached  the  gate, — 


THE  POLITICIAN  433 

*'  Trust  in  me." 

She  pressed  that  dear  arm  in  answer,  and  walked 
better,  seeming  to  have  regained  her  courage.  As 
they  entered  the  courtyard  on  one  side,  the  closed 
landau  from  Villa  Carre  drove  in  at  the  other,  and 
Count  Lao  and  his  companion  came  upon  the  steps. 
He  looked  gloomy  too.  Clenizzi  greeted  Elena 
with  as  much  warmth  as  though  she  had  escaped 
the  deluge,  but  Lao  scarcely  looked  at  her,  and  did 
not  ask  where  they  had  been.  Cortis  announced 
his  intention  of  remaining  at  Villascura  till  dinner 
time.  Elena  started,  but  did  not  speak,  partly  be- 
cause her  uncle,  muttering,  "  Quick,  quick !  "  seized 
her  arm  and  pushed  her  into  the  carriage,  after 
which  he  pushed  in  Clenizzi,  and  finally  jumped  in 
himself,  crying  to  the  coachman  to  drive  on. 

Cortis  did  not  move  until  the  carriage  was  hid- 
den from  sight  by  a  corner  of  the  house.  Per- 
chance his  eyes  might  still  meet  Elena's.  Then  he 
entered  the  house,  gave  orders  that  he  was  on  no 
account  to  be  disturbed,  and  went  into  his  study. 

As  soon  as  he  was  alone,  he  took  out  the  baron's 
letter,  and  threw  it,  with  a  mute  gesture  of  indigna- 
tion, upon  the  floor.  Then  he  raised  his  eyes  to 
his  father's  portrait,  which  hung  over  the  sofa, 
facing  the  writing-table;  he  studied  it  with  beat- 
ing heart.  It  was  the  picture  of  a  fine,  honest, 
calm,  severe  face. 

"  Thou  wert  stronger  than  I  am,"  said  the  son 
aloud ;  "I  am  giving  way  now,  but  I  will  be 
worthy  of  thee  always !  " 


434  THE  POLITICIAN 

After  this  he  picked  up  the  letter,  and,  having- 
spread  it  out  on  the  writing  table,  and  smoothed  it 
with  his  hand,  he  set  to  work  upon  it,  planting  an 
elbow  on  either  side,  and  supporting  his  head  be- 
tween his  hands.     He  read  as  follows: — 

"  Rome,  14th  April,  1882. 

''  Dear  Wife, —  You  who  read  novels,  or  at  any 
rate  who  used  to  read  them,  for  I  haven't  the  least 
idea  what  you  do  now,  will  think  all  that  has  hap- 
pened to  me  during  this  past  month  perfectly  nat- 
ural; but  I  myself  can't  at  all  understand  it. 

"  To  begin  with,  the  Government  is  paying  my 
debts.  Why,  I  can't  say,  and  don't  know,  but  it 
is  the  Government ;  I  gathered  that  from  the  words 
dropped  by  the  lawyer.  But  that  is  not  the  stran- 
gest part  of  the  business,  because  the  Government 
owes  a  great  deal  to  your  husband;  a  great  deal! 
The  second  strange  thing  is  this,  that  a  few  days 
ago,  Spurway,  that  English  cousin  of  mine,  of  the 
firm  of  Spurway  &  Company,  at  Yokohama,  came 
to  see  me.  I  spoke  to  him  about  that  cursed 
America,  and  asked  him  where  else  I  could  banish 
myself  to.  He  invited  me  to  Yokohama,  where 
there  is  quite  an  Italian  colony,  offering  me  a  place 
in  the  firm,  if  I  would  go  out  with  my  wife,  an  ar- 
rangement which  would  suit  us  both.  The  lawyer 
immediately  changed  America  into  Yokohama.  So 
this  is  settled,  and  it  all  seems  to  me  a  dream.  The 
third  strange  thing  has  not  yet  come  to  pass,  but  it 
seems  most  likely  to  happen,  and  that  is,  that  you, 


THE  POLITICIAN  435 

of  your  own  free  will,  should  consent  to  come  out 
to  Japan  with  me. 

"  I  may  tell  you  now  that,  had  I  gone  to  America, 
as  I  thought  I  should,  I  would  most  probably  have 
released  you  from  your  promise,  and  have  gone  out 
alone  to  make  the  best  of  the  few  years  of  my 
ruined  life  that  may  remain  to  me.  But  now  I 
hold  to  your  coming  with  me.  I  wish  to  prove  to 
you,  in  that  *  refugium  peccatorum,'  Yokohama, 
that  there  is  some  good  in  me,  and  that  I  am  fonder 
of  you  than  you  think.  When  all  my  virtues  have 
been  brought  out  I  may  at  last  go  down  to  the 
grave  in  a  state  of  favour  with  you. 

"  This  new  arrangement  prevents  me  from  giving 
you  all  the  time  you  wished  for,  as  I  must  start 
with  Spurway  on  the  19th." 

Cortis  stopped  to  calculate  what  day  the  19th 
would  be.  It  was  now  Sunday,  the  i6th,  so  it 
would  be  Wednesday  next!  The  letter  con- 
tinued : — 


(( 


There  is  this  one  compensation.  We  start 
from  Venice  as  you  desired.  We  shall  go  by  the 
P.  and  O.  steamer  '  Bokhara,'  in  which  we  shall  be 
most  comfortable.  You  must  be  in  Venice,  at  the 
latest,  on  the  evening  of  the  i8th.  Telegraph  on 
the  morning  of  the  i8th  to  T.  Spurway,  Hotel  Bri- 
tannia, and  I  will  be  waiting  for  you  at  the  station. 
If  you  have  not  time  to  make  many  preparations, 
never  mind.     Spurway  tells  me  that  one  can  get 


436  THE  POLITICIAN 

everything  out  there;  and  we  shall  have  money. 
Besides,  you  can  always  have  things  sent  out  to  you 
if  necessary. 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  will  escape  from  the 
clutches  of  the  most  illustrious  countess,  your 
mother,  and  the  most  noble  count,  your  uncle,  and 
from  your  most  reverend  adorer,  blessed  Daniele. 
That  is  your  affair. 

"  We  shall  meet  at  Venice  on  the  i8th.  You  are 
doing  it  from  duty,  but,  to  do  you  justice,  you  are 
renouncing  a  pleasant  life,  and,  by  God,  I  honour 
you  for  it. —  Your  faithful  husband, — 

"  Carmine." 

Cortis  pushed  the  letter  away  from  him  in  dis- 
gust. The  idea  passed  through  his  head  to  write 
and  say  to  him :  "  Your  debts  are  paid,  are  they  ? 
There  is  ^ne  owing  to  my  father,  and  you  shall  pay 
it  to  me !  "  And  he  imagined  himself  facing  him, 
sword  in  hand.  He  seized  the  letter,  and  crumpled 
it  hastily  into  his  pocket,  then,  sitting  down  at  the 
writing-table,  he  crossed  his  arms  upon  it,  and 
buried  his  head  in  them.  He  raised  it  immediately, 
and  shook  his  clenched  fists  in  the  air.  Then  he 
rose  and  walked  up  and  down  his  study,  abandoning 
himself  to  the  thought  that  Elena  now  loved  him 
so  dearly  as  to  have  no  other  will  but  his.  Every- 
thing was  in  his  power  now;  he  could  say  to  her, 
"I  take  your  soul  and  your  body;  I  wish  you  to 
stay  here."  He  seized  the  letter  again  to  see 
whether  the  baron   made   any  allusion  to   Elena's 


THE  POLITICIAN  437 

promise,  to  the  possibility  of  her  faihng"  him  after 
all. 

By  mistake  he  pulled  out  the  letter  he  had  re- 
ceived from  his  friends  in  Rome.  Heavens!  how 
could  he  think  of  Rome  now?  He  tore  it  across, 
and,  finding  the  other,  read  it  again.  There  was 
no  mention  of  the  promise. 

Now  he  must  go  to  the  Villa  Carre  and  see  her; 
he  must  not  leave  her  alone  at  such  a  time. 

As  he  opened  the  door  of  his  study,  he  saw,  in  a 
flash,  Elena's  departure,  and  his  own  loneliness 
after  she  was  gone.  He  stood  grasping  the  handle. 
At  last,  hearing  voices  and  steps  outside,  he  went 
out.  I 

It  was  Picuti  and  some  other  neighbours  who 
had  come  to  make  their  excuses  for  having  signed 
the  famous  protest.  They  had  not  even  read  it; 
had  only  signed  to  please  other  people. 

The  deputation  announced  at  the  same  time  that 
a  counter-protest  was  in  preparation.  They  begged 
him  not  to  be  in  too  great  a  hurry,  and  not  to  re- 
sign. Cortis  thanked  them  warmly,  and  said  that 
he  could  promise  nothing  as  to  his  resignation ;  he 
felt  too  utterly  worn  out  in  body  and  mind.  In 
any  case,  his  decision  depended  upon  other  circum- 
stances which  were  still  unsettled. 

Having  dismissed  them,  he  walked  rapidly  to- 
wards Villa  Carre.  When  he  reached  the  gate,  a 
doubt  seized  him.  Had  he  the  letter?  Or  had  he 
left  it  in  his  study  at  Villascura?  His  brain  was  in 
a  whirl.     The  letter  had  not  been  left  behind.     As 


438  THE  POLITICIAN 

his  hand  touched  it,  a  painful  thrill  passed  through 
him.  He  bit  his  lips,  he  would  have  crushed  his 
heart  if  he  could,  for  it  was  he  who  must  lead  her; 
he  who  must  be  calm  and  strong. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AS  THE  STARS  AND  THE  PALM-TREES 

Cortis  and  Elena  found  that  it  was  impossible  to 
spend  even  a  minute  together  before  dinner.  Elena 
went  into  the  garden,  thinking  that  Cortis  would 
join  her  there;  but  he  fancied  that  he  detected  a 
suspicion,  an  unusual  attention,  in  the  eyes  of  Lao, 
who  was  still  cross,  so  he  did  not  go  to  her.  He 
explained  his  reasons  to  her  with  a  glance  when  she 
re-entered,  disapfiointed  and  trembling,  as  if  she 
feared  that  he  had  abandoned  her.  He  suffered  no 
less;  but  he  was  master  of  himself.  Elena  on  the 
contrary,  lost  her  self-control,  and  betrayed  herself 
every  moment.  At  dinner  she  ate  nothing,  plead- 
ing a  severe  headache.  She  scarcely  spoke,  and 
never  to  Cortis;  but  she  looked  at  him  too  often 
with  eyes  full  of  melancholy. 

Coffee  was  served  in  the  verandah.  Countess 
Tarquinia  proposed  a  drive  in  the  Val  di  Rovese, 
declaring  it  would  do  Elena  good.  Clenizzi  in- 
quired whether  it  would  be  possible  to  reach  the 
Austrian  frontier  ?  No ;  that  was  too  far  for  an 
after-dinner  drive.  They  might  go  to  the  frontier 
on  Monday  or  Tuesday,  if  they  made  an  early  start. 
With  trembling  hands,  Elena  put  down  her  cup. 

*'  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  "  but  perhaps  I  may  be 

439 


440  THE  POLITICIAN 

obliged  to  go  into  town  on  Tuesday.     If  I  go,  I 
should  have  to  ask  you  to  let  me  have  the  horses." 

Her  uncle  and  her  mother  could  not  conceive  why 
she  should  want  to  go  on  Tuesday  particularly. 
In  her  answer  Elena  omitted  the  word  "  perhaps," 
declaring  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  but  giv- 
ing no  reason  whatever.  She  waited  anxiously  for 
a  word  from  Cortis,  a  suggestion  that  she  should 
put  it  off.  It  did  not  come ;  Cortis  had  turned  away 
to  look  at  the  meadows. 

"  Well,"  said  Elena,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"  we  might  go  on  Wednesday  evening.  She  wished 
her  family  to  remain  in  complete  ignorance  until 
she  was  at  sea.     Lao  lost  his  temper. 

"What  business  can  you  have?"  he  asked. 

The  countess  interposed  quickly,  observing  that 
they  might  go  on  Thursday.  Then  Clenizzi,  with 
many  regrets,  explained  that  he  must  leave  Passo 
di  Rovese  on  Tuesday.  Every  one  exclaimed.  At 
this  moment  the  carriage,  grinding  over  the  gravel, 
drew  up  in  front  of  the  verandah,  and  cut  short  the 
conversation. 

They  wanted  Count  Lao  to  drive  with  Elena, 
Clenizzi  and  Cortis,  but  the  count  answered  that  he 
had  made  enough  expeditions  for  one  day. 
Did  they  want  to  send  him  into  the  next  world  at 
once  ? 

"  Listen,"  he  said  to  Elena.  He  drew  her  away 
with  him,  and  whispered  that,  on  her  return,  she 
was  to  come  up  to  his  room,  as  he  wanted  to  speak 
to  her. 


THE  POLITICIAN  441 

Countess  Tarquinia  went  in  the  carriage  instead 
of  her  brother-in-law.  Elena  and  Cortis  sat  on 
the  back  seat  and  at  first  the  countess  turned  con- 
tinually and  made  vigorous  attempts  to  keep  up  a 
conversation,  but  with  scanty  results.  She  threw 
uneasy  glances  towards  Elena  and  Cortis.  They 
never  spoke.  What  was  the  matter  with  them? 
At  last  she  relapsed  into  silence  too. 

The  carriage  rolled  along  one  of  the  lofty 
wooded  banks,  through  which  flows  the  Rovese. 
How  many  times  Elena  and  Cortis  had  walked 
along  that  road!  A  few  days  before,  they  had 
gone  to  the  river  by  one  of  these  little  paths  and 
it  was  then  she  h^d  made  up  her  mind  to  trust  him 
with  all  her  secrets.  As  they  drove  past  it  their 
eyes  met,  and  they  remembered  silently  the  happy 
moments  that  were  gone.  They  looked  at  each 
other  now  openly,  and  with  but  little  prudence. 
That  silent  drive  in  the  dim  light,  between  huge 
mountains,  looking  far  into  the  distance,  made  them 
dream,  forgetful  of  all  save  their  passion.  They 
did  not  even  notice  Clenizzi  when  he  asked  for  the 
name  of  two  wretched  little  ruined  towers,  planted 
above  the  Rovese,  and  looking  down  upon  its  white 
gravelly  bed.  Countess  Tarquinia  answered  in- 
stead. 

On  the  way  back  the  countess  stopped  the  carriage 
near  the  Delia  Pria  bridge.  They  must  get  out 
and  show  Clenizzi,  from  the  bridge,  the  cluster  of 
cottages  perched  upon  the  grey  rock  against  the 
picturesque  background  of  the  gully ;  and  below,  the 


442  THE  POLITICIAN 

narrow  fissure  through  which  the  green  water 
rushes  noisily,  pouring  itself  out  towards  the  fields 
beyond  in  a  cloud  of  spray.  Elena  leaned  against 
the  parapet,  watching  the  dark,  tragic  rocks,  and 
Cortis  came  and  stood  near  her. 

"  If  we  cannot  get  a  word  together  this  even- 
ing," he  whispered,  "  be  in  the  verandah  at  six  to- 
morrow morning." 

And  he  rejoined  Clenizzi  on  the  other  side  of  the 
bridge. 

How  tiresome  it  was,  thought  Elena,  not  even  to 
be  able  to  speak  to  him  freely,  or  to  see  him  openly ! 
Must  she  really  wait  till  to-morrow? 

On  returning  home  she  went  immediately  to  her 
Uncle  Lao.  On  the  staircase,  that  other  evening 
recurred  to  her  memory,  on  which  she  had  gone  up 
to  her  uncle  after  hearing  from  Daniele  those  mys- 
terious words,  "  A  grave  matter."     And  now ! 

Count  Lao  was  still  in  a  very  bad  temper.  He 
leaned  back  in  his  arm-chair,  his  knees  wrapped  in 
an  ominous-looking  rug  and  scarcely  noticed  his 
niece  as  she  came  in. 

"  Here  I  am,  uncle !  "  said  she, 

"  And  here  am  I,  too,  and  I  should  have  done  bet- 
ter if  I  had  never  moved.  The  cold  and  damp  of 
to-day  have  brought  back  all  my  suffering.  But  I 
deserve  them.  I  wanted  to  play  the  hero,  and  find 
I  am  only  a  very  poor  creature  after  all.  But  that 
does  not  signify.  I  have  another  cause  for  trou- 
ble." 

"What  is  it,  uncle?" 


THE  POLITICIAN  443 

It  was  very  difficult  for  Elena  to  be  attentive  and 
to  take  interest  in  what  he  was  saying. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Rome  to-day,"  he  said. 
"  A  note  from  that  woman  Cortis,  enclosing  me  this 
paper.     It  will  interest  you;  read  it." 

Elena  took  the  paper,  and  went  to  the  window  to 
read  it.  It  was  a  letter  from  the  parish  priest  to 
Signora  Cortis,  in  which  much  was  said  as  to  the 
frequent  meetings  between  herself  and  Cortis,  and 
the  comments  made  by  the  neighbourhood.  The 
priest  did  not  wish  to  judge  rashly,  but  he  de- 
plored the  scandal,  and  that  they  cared  so  little 
about  avoiding  it.  He  had  thought  of  mentioning 
it  to  some  of  the  family,  but  did  not  dare  to;  he 
preferred  to  tell  her  of  it,  as  she  might  take  some 
action  in  the  matter.  In  her  note  the  signora  asked 
Lao  whether  he  were  now  convinced  of  the  neces- 
sity of  doing  something;  whether  he  believed  what 
she  had  said  to  him  in  Rome. 

"  That  mischief-making  donkey  shall  never  set 
foot  in  this  house  again,"  said  Lao,  "  but  — " 

Elena,  who  was  still  reading  and  holding  the  let- 
ter in  both  hands,  dropped  them  suddenly  in  front 
of  her  and  drew  herself  up  proudly. 

"But  what?"  she  said. 

"Gently,  my  child;"  said  Lao,  "gently!" 

"  Gently,  indeed !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"What  do  I  mean?" 

He  watched  her  silently,  and  then  put  out  his 
hand. 

"  Listen,  Elena,"  he  said. 


444  THE  POLITICIAN 

She  neither  moved  nor  spoke.  He  then  signed 
to  her  to  come  nearer,  repeating  tenderly: — 

"  Listen." 

She  approached  slowly,  reluctantly,  and  required 
another  silent  invitation  before  taking  his  out- 
stretched hand. 

"  Well,"  said  her  uncle,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, "  until  this  morning  I  was  blind,  but  my  eyes 
are   open  now." 

Elena  did  not  blush,  nor  did  she  lower  her  eyes. 

"And  what  have  you  seen?"  she  asked,  trem- 
bling. "  Have  you  seen  my  heart  ?  The  heart 
cannot  be  bound.     Have  you  thought  evil  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  that  with  your  temperament, 
you  will  suffer  and  torment  yourself,  God  knows 
how  much;  and  I  have  also  thought  that  Daniele 
is  doing  very  wrong  in  attaching  himself  to  you. 
Devilish  wrong !  " 

"  You  must  not  say  that,  uncle ;  you  must  not 
say  that ! "  burst  out  Elena  breathlessly,  leaning 
over  her  uncle.  "  He  is  noble,  you  know ;  so 
... 

She  could  not  continue ;  she  felt  suffocated. 

"  Never  mind  that,  my  child,"  said  her  uncle. 
"  I  have  not  said  that  he  is  not  noble.  I  believe  he 
is.  I  perfectly  understand  what  you  mean;  but 
these  things  always  begin  thus  among  people  like 
you,  and  finish  otherwise  although  between  people 
naturally  noble.  Men  are  men.  He  is  better  than 
any  other,  but  even  he  is  made  of  flesh  and  blood. 
You  know  that  I  have  no  faith  in  either  angels  or 


THE  POLITICIAN  445 

saints.  If  we  had  divorce  in  this  country!  If  we 
had  divorce,  I  should  have  taken  a  wife  myself! 
And  I  would  never  have  changed  her!  I  should 
have  been  happy !  But  we  have  no  divorce,  and  you 
would  marry  the  baron.  That  was  horrible !  But 
never  mind  that,  we  won't  talk  about  it  any  more. 
What  we  have  to  do  now  is  to  think  of  your  honor 
and  of  that  of  your  family." 

"If  it  is  in  my  hands,  it- is  in  good  keeping;" 
said  Elena,  proudly,  pulling  herself  away  from 
him,  and  going  towards  the  door.  "  No,  no!  "  she 
added,  as  he  called  her  back.  "  You  have  no  busi- 
ness to  speak  in  this  way  to  me,  not  even  you !  " 

She  was  seizefd  with  a  convulsive  fit  of  sobbing, 
hard  dry  sobbing,  without  the  comfort  of  tears,  and 
leaned  her  head  against  the  door-post.  Lao  threw 
off  his  rug  to  go  to  her;  but  she  motioned  him  to 
keep  away,  without  raising  her  head. 

"  It  will  pass  directly.  I  shall  be  quite  well," 
she  said.     "  Stay  where  you  are  — " 

But  that  Lao  could  not  do.  He  reproached  him- 
self, then  be  bewailed  himself,  and  tried  to  ex- 
plain away  his  words.  He  had  not  meant  that  she 
could  dishonour  herself. 

*'  If  mamma  had  said  this  to  me,"  murmured 
Elena,  "  I  should  not  have  minded ;  but  coming 
from  you,  uncle !  " 

"  I,"  answered  Lao,  "  only  spoke  of  the  world, 
of  your  judges,  of  what  people  would  say." 

"  The  world !  " 

It  was  impossible  to  imagine  greater  sorrow  or 


\y 


446  THE  POLITICIAN 

contempt  than  she  threw  into  her  pronunciation  of 
that  word. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Lao,  piqued,  "  I  may  be  a 
stupid  old  man,  but  good  and  evil  report  are  always 
things  of  importance.  If  a  woman  has  the  slightest 
air  of  misconducting  herself,  and  her  family  ap- 
pears to  look  on  calmly,  you  see  what  happens." 

Elena's  eyes  flashed. 

"  I  have  no  air  of  -misconducting  myself,"  she 
said. 

"  If,  I  said !  //  she  has  such  an  appearance." 

Elena  still  looked  at  him.  What  did  she  see  in 
that  dear,  grave  mortified  old  face?  Her  expres- 
sion changed  rapidly. 

"  Oh,  uncle,  uncle !  "  she  cried,  throwing  herself 
into  his  arms ;  "  keep  me  here  with  you  —  always 
with  you !  I  have  nothing  to  blame  myself  for,  not 
even  a  thought !  " 

She  hugged  him  tightly,  speaking  in  a  voice 
broken  by  sobs. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,"  exclaimed  Lao,  moved 
and  frightened,  "  what  are  you  thinking  of?  Calm 
yourself,  dear !  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  so  unhappy! 
you  need  not  tell  me  that.  But  calm  yourself: 
come,  calm  yourself !  " 

He  pressed  her  to  his  breast,  smoothing  her  hair 
with  paternal  tenderness. 

"  No,  go,"  he  said.  "  Go  and  make  my  excuses 
to  the  senator.  Tell  him  I  will  not  come  down,  as 
I  do  not  feel  well,  and  that  I  am  going  to  bed  very 
soon.     See  if  he  would  like  to  take  a  turn  with  you 


THE  POLITICIAN  447 

and  Daniele.  You  might  go  down  to  the  Rovese 
bridge,  which  he  has  not  seen." 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  at  the  sound  of  his  gen- 
tleness, Elena's  tears  began  to  flow. 

"  Go,  go !  "  insisted  Lao  kindly.  She  did  not 
stir;  she  seemed  not  to  have  heard.  Her  uncle  un- 
derstood that  she  did  not  wish  to  leave  his  room  in 
her  present  state,  and  that  she  wanted  time  to  re- 
cover her  calmness. 

"  Did  Clenizzi  enjoy  his  drive  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Where  did  you  go  ?  " 

Elena  buried  her  face  on  his  breast. 

And  mamma?"  he  murmured. 

"What  is  it,  dear?" 

"  And  mamma  ?     Does  she  know  of  this  letter  ?  " 

"  No,  my  child.     Of  course  I  have  not  told  her." 

They  were  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  Lao 
turned  to  her  and  told  her  that  she  really  ought  to 
go  down.  She  lifted  her  face,  smiled  at  him  and, 
raising  herself  on  tiptoe  in  order  to  reach  his  cheek, 
kissed  it  and  left  his  room. 

She  dragged  herself  to  her  own  room,  feeling  so 
ill,  so  mortally  tired.  Falling  on  her  bed,  she  lay 
there  like  one  dead,  going  over  and  over  the  bitter 
thought  that  her  secret  was  no  longer  her  own. 

The  fresh  breeze  of  the  evening,  the  scent  of 
the  roses  and  wistaria,  and  the  sad  rushing  voice  of 
the  river  entered  through  her  open  windows.  A 
warm  light  seemed  to  come  from  the  trembling  rose 
leaves,  although  the  room  was  almost  dark.  Noth- 
ing stirred  save  the  shadow  of  the  leaves  upon  the 


448  THE  POLITICIAN 

floor;  nothing"  was  audible  save  the  rapid  ticking 
of  an  invisible  little  clock.  Elena  dreamed  with 
her  eyes  open.  She  dreamed  she  was  ill,  and  could 
not  move  from  bed ;  and  he  came  to  keep  her  com- 
pany, and  read  to  her.  Months  passed  thus,  and 
lengthened  into  years  and  she  said  to  herself :  "  Do 
you  see  how  wicked  you  are?  You  did  not  believe 
that  God  cared  for  you  and  now  see  how  good  He 
has  been  to  you — "  There  was  Daniele  sitting  be- 
side her  bed,  reading  to  her  in  his  beautiful  deep 
voice,  looking  at  her  now  and  then,  smiling  at  her  or 
very  softly  laying  his  lips  on  her  hair ;  ah !  she 
opened  her  arms  and  called  him  gently :  "  Daniele ! 
Daniele !  " 

The  roaring  of  the  river,  sounding  like  the  com- 
plaint of  neglected  nature,  was  her  only  answer. 

Meanwhile  the  darkness  was  increasing;  and  a 
star  peeped  through  the  roses. 

As  soon  as  Elena  saw  it,  she  jumped  up  and  sat 
on  her  bed.  What  time  was  it?  How  long  had 
she  been  lying  there?  She  had  no  more  idea  than 
if  she  had  just  wakened  from  a  sound  sleep.  Per- 
haps it  was  late,  and  she  should  not  see  Daniele  any 
more  that  evening.  Her  head  ached  and  burned; 
but  what  did  that  matter?  She  fastened  up  her 
hair  hastily,  carelessly,  as  she  had  no  light,  and 
went  down-stairs.  On  the  way  she  met  her  mother 
coming  to  look  for  her,  thinking  she  was  still  with 
her  uncle. 

"And  your  headache?  "  she  asked. 

Elena  answered  that  she  still  had  it,  and  that  she 


THE  POLITICIAN  449 

thought  she  should  soon  go  to  bed.  As  she  went 
down  the  stairs,  her  knees  trembled  beneath  her,  as 
if  she  had  no  power  in  them.  She  had  to  grasp  at 
the  silken  cord  that  ran  down  along  the  wall. 
Meanwhile,  she  tried  to  recall  the  conversation  she 
had  had  with  her  uncle,  but  her  head  was  so  con- 
fused !  It  came  back  to  her  with  a  flush,  and  with 
the  recollection  came  also  her  disdain,  and  with  her 
disdain  her  strength. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  drawing-room.  Cortis 
and  Clenizzi  were  sitting  in  the  garden  near  the 
cypress.  Countess  Tarquinia  could  not  understand 
how  they  could  face  the  wind,  for  it  was  blowing 
a  good  deal  nowi  and  moaning  in  the  fir  trees.  But 
Elena  wanted  air,  and  went  out  just  as  Clenizzi 
came  in.  He  tried  to  detain  her,  and  failing, 
wanted  to  go  out  with  her  again,  but  Countess  Tar- 
quinia said,  "  Let  them  go,  the  geese,"  and  kept  him 
with  her. 

Elena  and  Cortis  stood  waiting  breathlessly  to  see 
if  Clenizzi  were  coming  out,  or  if  the  countess  were 
going  to  call  them  in.  They  heard  her  laugh  dying 
away  as  she  passed  out  of  the  drawing-room 
into  the  hall.  Then  Elena  seized  Cortis  by  the 
hand. 

"  Did  you  see?  "  she  said. 

It  was  quite  dark  now;  they  could  not  be  seen 
from  the  drawing-room,  and  Cortis,  for  answer, 
took  his  hand  from  hers,  to  place  his  arm  around 
her,  and  drew  her  towards  him. 

"  I  am  not  going  away,  you  know,"  Elena  whis- 


450  THE  POLITICIAN 

pered  in  a  weak  voice ;  "  I  am  not  going.     I  cannot. 
I  shall  stay  here  with  you,  for  ever  with  you!  " 

He  loosened  his  grasp,  not  uttering  a  word,  not 
showing  a  sign  of  joy  or  affection, 

"  Oh,  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Elena,  despairingly, 
raising  herself;  "  speak  to  me,  Daniele;  tell  me  what 
I  am  to  do.  I  will  do  anything  you  wish.  I  can- 
not even  think  now." 

"  Do  you  want  to  make  yourself  really  ill  out 
there  ?  "  cried  the  countess,  opening  the  drawing- 
room  window. 

"  We  are  coming  immediately,  aunt,"  answered 
Cortis. 

At  that  moment  the  usual  set  of  card  players  en- 
tered the  drawing-room  by  the  opposite  door.  The 
countess  turned  away. 

"Well?"  said  Elena. 

Cortis  pressed  her  hands  silently. 

"  Not  now,"  he  said,  "  we  cannot  talk  now ;  to- 
morrow morning,  at  six,  on  the  verandah." 

She  made  no  reply,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  should  like  to  say  one  thing  to  you,  though," 
said  Cortis.  And  he  added,  in  a  low  voice :  "  There 
is  One  whose  advice  you  should  seek  before  mine." 

His  voice  too  trembled  a  little.  Elena  nodded 
her  head  silently.  He  placed  his  lips  upon  her  fore- 
head, and  said,  very  gently,  as  he  raised  them : — 

"  Pray." 
.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  You  know,"  she  murmured,  "  that  I  have  never 
been  able  to  pray  like  you." 


THE  POLITICIAN  451 

"  Pray  now." 

She  laid  her  head  upon  his  breast.  "  And  you," 
she  said,  with  beating  heart,  "  do  you  really  believe 
all  that  you  would  have  me  believe  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied  quietly;  "I  believe  it  firmly." 

"  Then  I  believe  too,  for  your  sake,"  continued 
Elena,  "  shall  I  deserve  that  God  should  accept  such 
a  faith?" 

"Yes,  yes!" 

Elena  removed  her  arms  from  his  neck  and, 
raising  her  face,  said  softly, 

"I  will  pray.     Are  you  satisfied?" 

A  solemn  silence  followed.  Elena  looked  at 
Daniele  smilingly.  He  could  not  speak  for  emo- 
tion. They  were-  silent,  and  trembled,  feeling  that 
their  Father  was  close  by,  within  them  in  the  burn- 
ing of  their  hearts,  and  above  them  in  the  glory  of 
the  stars. 

"  We  must  go  in  now,"  said  Elena.  "  To-mor- 
row at  six.     Good-bye." 

She  crossed  the  hall  hastily  and  disappeared  up 
the  staircase,  while  Cortis  went  to  show  himself  in 
the  music-room,  where  they  were  playing  cards, 
chattering  and  joking.  He  remained  there  a  short 
time,  and  then  went  out  to  the  fir  trees.  There, 
leaning  against  one  of  the  old  trunks,  he  eagerly  re- 
called her  words, — "  I  will  pray.  Are  you  satis- 
fied? "  exulted  in  them  with  a  feverish  pleasure,  ex- 
citing himself  with  his  thoughts  of  the  sublime  love 
which  was  his,  at  the  thought  that  God  had  taken 
Elena  and  him  for  ever,  that  they  were  now  nearer 


452  THE  POLITICIAN 

one  to  the  other,  since  their  union  would  henceforth 
contain  the  elements  of  holiness  and  eternity,  which 
neither  sorrow  nor  death  could  remove.  He  medi- 
tated thus,  intoxicated  with  his  happiness,  which 
was  lofty  and  untainted  by  anything  earthly.  He 
was  blindly  convinced  that  God  said  to  him, — "  Her 
mind  is  already  yours ;  she  shall  be  yours  in  the  next 
world.  This  shall  be  the  end  of  the  love  wherewith 
I  have  inspired  you.  Now  that  she  is  going,  do  you 
go  forth  also,  tempered  by  sadness;  go  forth,  fight, 
suffer,  be  a  man  amongst  men,  a  noble  instrument 
of  truth  and  justice;  and  the  stars,  the  mountains 
and  the  grave  old  fir-trees,  all  bore  witness  to  his 
answ^er,  and  heard  him  say, — "  Yes,  it  shall  be  so!  " 

He  returned  slowly  towards  the  house  —  towards 
the  light  which  he  could  see  burning  far  away  in  the 
hall,  and  shining  through  the  door  like  an  eye  di- 
rected upon  him  through  a  telescope.  Elena  was 
perhaps  upstairs  in  her  room  prarying.  He  went 
and  seated  himself  under  the  cypress,  and  remained 
there  until  she  put  out  her  light  at  midnight. 

The  next  morning  Cortis  came  out  of  his  room 
very  gently  at  a  quarter  to  six.  A  servant,  who 
was  dusting  the  hall,  said : — 

"  You  are  early  this  morning,  Signor  Daniele." 

The  fresh,  invigorating  air  came  in  at  every  open 
door ;  the  birds  were  twittering  in  the  cypress. 

"  Is  no  one  else  down  ?  "  asked  Cortis. 

"  No  one." 

He  paused  for  a  moment  to  listen  to  the  birds,  and 
to  notice,  on  the  tree,  the  beautiful  blue  bunches  of 


THE  POLITICIAN  453 

the  wistaria  waving  in  the  morning  breeze ;  and  up 
there,  raising  its  head  towards  heaven,  the  rocks  of 
Corno  Ducale  were  bathed  in  sunshine.  Even  the 
grey  teeth  of  Rumano,  and  the  long  ridge  of  Passo 
Piccolo,  which  faced  the  verandah,  were  in  the  sun. 
Cortis  seated  himself  in  a  wooden  arm  chair  near 
the  door  and  waited. 

Six  o'clock  was  striking  at  Villascura  when  Elena 
came  out  of  her  room,  wrapped  from  head  to  feet 
in  a  black  cloak.  Cortis  rose  and  they  shook 
hands  gravely,  without  any  other  greeting.  She 
was  pale,  but  her  eyes  were  more  peaceful,  less  rest- 
less, than  they  had  been  the  preceding  evening. 
Cortis  said,  in  French,  that  they  could  not  stay 
there,  as  the  servants  were  passing  to  and  fro  con- 
stantly and  they  walked  towards  the  porch.  An  old 
woman,  near  the  stables,  greeted  them ;  even  by  the 
fir  trees  they  could  see  people  about,  but  once  out 
of  the  gates,  they  turned  to  the  left,  following  the 
road  leading  to  Passo  di  Rovese.  There  was  no 
soul  there  and  now  Elena  trembled ;  she  did  not 
even  dare  to  look  at  Daniele,  who  began  to  speak. 
They  walked  more  slowly. 

"  Shall  we  cross  the  Rovese?"  he  asked  gently, 
answering,  as  it  seemed,  an  unexpressed  thought  of 
hers.     "  We  shall  be  freer  over  there." 

She  nodded  assent  and  pressed  his  arm  without 
speaking,  leaning  upon  it,  and  looking  straight  in 
front  of  her  with  set  lips. 

"  Good-bye !  "  murmured  Cortis. 

She  pressed  his  arm  still  tighter. 


454  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  I  was  just  thinking  the  same  thing,"  she  said. 

"What,  dear?" 

Elena  walked  on  a  step  or  two  without  answer- 
ing, and  then  added  : — 

*'  I  know  it  must  be." 

It  was  not  a  voice,  it  was  the  slightest  breath; 
the  soul  and  not  the  lips  had  uttered  the  words. 

And  again  she  pressed  his  arm,  with  greater  pas- 
sion than  before. 

"Oh,  Daniele!"  she  said,  sorrowfully.  "It  is 
our  duty." 

"  Yes,  yes;  it  was  only  momentary;  forgive  me. 
I  am  so  much  more  at  peace  than  I  was  yesterday. 
I  have  given  myself  wholly  to  God  now." 

They  had  reached  the  deserted  river  bank. 

"  I  have  made  the  sacrifice,"  she  said.  "  Now  I 
feel  comforted.  I  have  a  spasm  of  pain  sometimes 
still,  but  it  soon  passes.  Yesterday  I  would  have 
gladly  died  so  as  to  avoid  going;  but  it  is  not  so 
now.     Do  you  know  why?  " 

Without  waiting  for  his  answer  she  added  hur- 
riedly, in  a  low  voice,  hiding  her  face, — 

"  I  have  been  wicked,  unbelieving,  proud  in  the 
past.  I  need  to  suffer.  Then  God  will  pardon  me, 
will  He  not  ?  What  I  dread  now  is  that  I  may  not 
believe  as  you  do,  and  that  I  only  believe  because 
you  do.  If  such  were  the  case,  Daniele,  what  would 
happen  to  me  in  the  next  world  ?  Should  I  be  able 
to  go  where  you  do  ?  Oh,  God,  you  will  have  such 
a  high  place !  " 

He  would    not    hear   of   this,    denying    it    with 


THE  POLITICIAN  455 

genuine,  heartfelt  earnestness,  and  with  burning 
eves. 

'*  You  are  humble,"  he  said,  "  you  are  holy." 

"  I  am  humble  before  God  and  before  you,"  she 
answered ;  "  but  not  before  men.  I  fear  I  may  never 
be." 

"  And  I  ?  "  exclaimed  Cortis. 

Neither  was  he  humble  before  men,  he,  with  his 
proud  contempt  for  all  vulgar  arrogance,  he  the 
proud  soldier  prepared  to  do  battle  for  his  ideas. 

Elena  was  silent. 

"And  the  sacrifice  you  are  making?"  he  con- 
tinued. 

"  That  we  must  both  make,"  she  replied.  "  Had 
it  not  been  for  you  I  should  have  been  vile.  I 
should  have  stayed  here." 

They  had  crossed  the  wooden  bridge  over  the 
Rovese,  and  were  following  the  little  path  that  turns 
on  the  left  between  a  limpid  stream  and  the  crum- 
bling sides  of  the  bare  mountain.  Elena  stopped, 
gently  withdrawing  her  arm  from  his. 

"  I  have  something  else  on  my  mind,"  she  said. 
"  I  thought  I  ought  not  to  tell  you.  I  don't  know, 
even  now,  if  I  am  doing  right,  but  I  cannot  keep 
silence;  it  would  be  disloyal  to  you,  at  this  mo- 
ment." 

Cortis  asked  in  surprise  how  she  could  possibly 
have  a  thought  of  keeping  anything  back  from  him. 
She  fancied  there  was  a  shade  of  disappointment  in 
his  voice,  and  suddenly  taking  his  arm  again,  she 
went  close  to  him,  and  whispered  tenderly, — 


456  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  It  does  not  concern  me,  at  all.  You  know  I 
should  now  keep  nothing  from  you  that  concerned 
myself." 

She  would  not  say  more  till  Cortis  had  told  her 
he  believed  her. 

"  It  is  something  terrible,  you  see.  Perhaps 
when  you  know  it  you  w^ill  not  advise  me  to  go 
away.     That  is  why  I  feel  I  ought  to  tell  you." 

"  Something  terrible  ?  " 

Elena  took  the  little  path  which  runs  by  the  side 
of  the  river.  It  had  been  banked  up  by  large 
stones  to  make  it  safe,  and,  having  gone  a  few 
steps  along  it,  she  seated  herself  on  the  grass. 

"  It  concerns  your  mother,"  she  said. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  asked  Cortis. 

"  Nothing  lately :  but  many  years  —  oh,  Daniele, 
I  repent  now  of  ever  having  tried  to  tell  you." 

She  was  silent,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  knees. 
Cortis  seated  near  her,  bent  down  and  whispered : — 

"Don't  say  it!" 

"And  what  if  I  do  wrong  by  not  saying  it?" 
she  answered. 

He  repeated  in  a  louder  tone,  almost  of  supplica- 
tion : — 

"  Don't  say  it !  " 

"  I  would  that  God  would  inspire  me,"  murmured 
Elena. 

Once  more  Cortis  bent  down  towards  her,  and 
whispered : — 

"Alessandria;  1855?" 


THE  POLITICIAN  457 

Elena  turned  and  looked  at  him  in  mute  astonish- 
ment. 

He  looked  at  her,  very  pale,  with  a  finger  on  his 
lips. 

"  You  knew  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

No  answer. 

A  serious  look  came  into  her  face,  and,  placing 
her  arm  round  his  neck,  she  drew  his  head  down 
and  touched  his  lips  lightly  with  her  own. 

They  were  silent  a  moment.  She  took  one  of 
his  hands,  and  laying  it  on  her  lap,  caressed  it  with 
one  of  her  own,  looking  at  him  the  while,  and  try- 
ing to  catch  his  eye.  But  he  sat  gazing  straight 
in  front  of  him  blankly,  at  the  shadowy  stream  that 
ran  past  them.  They  remained  thus  for  some  time. 
At  length  Elena  murmured,  very  humbly, — "  Will 
you  forgive  me?"  He  placed  his  hand  on  her 
head  for  an  instant,  then  he  rose,  and  proposed  that 
they  should  go  round  the  grey  stone  pillars  that 
supported  the  road  above  the  river.  They  went 
and  sat  by  the  water  that  rushed  through  the  open- 
ing, curving  over  the  stones,  from  the  edge  of  the 
pillars,  and  rushing  away  into  the  sunlight,  foaming 
and  chattering.  In  front  of  them  spread  the  light 
of  the  sky  and  the  green  fields. 

"  The  last  time !  "  said  Elena. 

Cortis  inquired  at  what  time  she  would  start. 
Certainly  in  good  season,  as  she  would  be  busy  for 
several  hours  in  town  before  going  on  to  Venice. 
She  ought  really  to  catch  the  12:30  train.     These 


xy 


458  THE  POLITICIAN 

practical  details,  these  arrangements  of  times  and 
hours,  cut  them  both  to  the  heart. 

Elena's  eyes  closed.  She  struggled  anxiously, 
but  vainly  against  the  tears  that  would  come. 

"  Daniele,"  she  said,  "  shall  we  ever  meet 
again  ?  " 

"  God  is  merciful,"  he  replied  gravely. 

She  continued  to  cry  quietly  and  some  minutes 
passed  before  she  could  timidly  ask  a  question, — 

"  May  we  write  to  each  other  ?  " 

Cortis  hesitated  a  moment. 

"I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  not!  "  he  said 
at  length ;  "  but  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  com- 
plete the  sacrifice,  and  write  only  as  friends." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Elena,  with  ice  in  her  voice  and 
in  her  heart;  "certainly  only  as  friends." 

It  seemed  so  hard  to  her,  but  he  had  said  it ;  that 
was  enough  for  her.  She  then  begged  him  to  write 
down  for  her  the  Latin  inscription  on  the  column. 
He  promised  to  do  so,  adding  that  he  would  write 
down  some  other  words  for  her;  those  of  a  saint.' 
He  took  her  hand,  and  whispered : 

They  are  wedded  not  zvith  flesh  hut  with  heart. 
Thus  also  are  wedded  the  stars  and  planets,  not 
with  their  body,  but  zvith  their  light;  thus  also  the 
palm-trees,  not  with  their  roots,  but  with  their  sum- 
mits." 

They  were  sublime  words.  He  repeated  them 
aloud  to  the  sky,  to  the  mountains,  to  the  rushing 
river. 


THE  POLITICIAN  459 

His  face  and  heart  were  on  fire.  His  powerful 
voice  seemed  still  more  powerful.  Now  they  must 
discuss  what  she  should  do  about  her  aunt  —  her 
uncle.  It  grieved  her  to  leave  them  all  with- 
out any  farewell,  deceiving  them  indeed;  but  it 
was  impossible  to  do  otherwise.  She  must  leave 
a  letter  behind,  a  greeting,  and  she  had  no  strength 
to  write;  she  had  so  much  to  say!  She  then  told 
him  of  the  last  conversation  she  had  had  with  her 
uncle.  She  only  wished  him  to  know  how  much  he 
had  been  deceived  in  his  sceptical  view  of  Cortis's 
character.  The  latter  did  not  dissuade  her  from 
this;  but  he  told  her  that  she  had  better  make  no 
allusion  to  him,  or  let  her  uncle  believe  that  his 
words  or  suspicions  had  ultimately  helped  her  to 
go.  For  the  present,  it  would  be  enough  to  send 
a  few  lines  from  Venice,  and  to  reserve  her  long 
letter  for  Yokohama. 

Elena  bowed  her  head. 

"  I  will  do  so,"  she  said.  "  And  you  ?  "  she 
added,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  start  to-morrow  night.  I  am  going  to 
Rome." 

She  rejoiced  to  think  that  he  w^as  returning  to 
his  post  in  the  battle-field ;  but,  nevertheless,  she 
felt  that  the  wrench  of  leaving  her  own  home,  her 
own  people,  would  be  increased  by  the  knowledge 
that  he  was  going  away  as  w^ell. 

"  You  will  write,"  she  said,  "  and  tell  me  all 
about  your  struggles  and  victories?  " 

Cortis  answered  that,  as  yet,  there  could  be  no 


46o  THE  POLITICIAN 

victories  for  his  ideas,  nor,  indeed,  battles.  The 
only  thing  they  could  do  was  to  raise  the  standard 
of  rebellion  against  people  who  were. determined  to 
let  themselves  be  crushed. 

Another  question  rose  to  Elena's  lips,  — 

"  And  in  Rome  —  your  mother?  " 

She  dared  not  proceed. 

"  I  will  see,"  he  answered,  guessing  her  mean- 
ing ;  "  but  we  cannot  live  together ;  I  have  tried 
that." 

It  was  time  to  go  home.  So  this  hour  of  confi- 
dence, this  hour  of  their  last  day,  was  o/er,  and 
life  would  probably  not  contain  such  another  for 
them. 

They  walked  back,  slowly  and  in  silence,  along 
the  broken  path  by  the  stream.  Near  the  bridge 
at  which  the  Posena  and  the  Rovese  mingle  their 
waters,  she  recalled  a  remark  that  he  had  made 
some  time  before  about  two  rivers,  which,  conscious 
from  afar  of  each  other's  presence,  though  invisible, 
rush  towards  each  other,  drawn  by  passionate  love. 
Then,  when  they  meet  at  length  they  fling  them- 
selves into  each  other's  arms,  uniting  with  stormy 
delight,  and  then  quietly  flow  on  down  the  valley 
together  at  rest. 

"  That  was  on  the  bridge,"  she  said,  "  on  the 
1 2th  of  June,  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning." 

"  And  you  said  nothing.  You  looked  in  an- 
other direction.  You  appeared  not  even  to  have 
heard." 


THE  POLITICIAN  461 

Elena  stopped  on  the  bridge,  looking  back  upon 
the  path  by  the  stream. 

"  I  am  going  away  ignorant  of  so  much  about 
you,"  she  said  bitterly. 

Cortis  took  her  hand,  and  helped  her  across  a 
plank,  which  had  been  thrown  over  a  hole  between 
the  bridge  and  the  path, 

"  The  things  I  wish  most  to  know,"  whispered 
Elena,  "  are  two." 

He  made  her  sit  down  upon  a  fallen  poplar,  near 
the  green  bank,  and  waited  till  she  spoke. 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  she  said,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "  if  you  ever  loved  before  — " 

"  I  loved  you  when  I  was  a  boy,"  answered  Cor- 
tis. "  Then  for  some  years  I  thought  no  more  about 
it.  During  that  time  I  imagined  myself  in  love 
eight  or  ten  times.  I  never  was  really.  What 
next?" 

"  Next  —  I  should  like  to  know  —  when  — " 

She  dropped  her  head  upon  his  breast,  and  did 
not  continue. 

"  When  I  began  to  love  you  ?  I  do  not  know 
myself.  I  thought  so  often  that  I  loved,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  it  could  not  be  true.  It  was  in  Oc- 
tober of  last  year,  when  you  went  away,  that  I  saw 
I  could  not  forget  you.  You  returned  in  May. 
Then  — " 

His  heart  beat  with  such  violence  as  to  prevent 
him  from  continuing. 

She  knew  now. 

She  rose,  taking  his  arm  and  drinking  in  with 


462  THE  POLITICIAN 

her  eyes,  with  her  soul,  every  shape  and  colour  of 
that  dear  place;  the  white  gravel,  the  swift,  green 
water  with  its  swirling  currents,  the  meadow  on 
the  other  side,  the  great  foaming  torrent  which  falls 
near  the  houses  of  the  village,  built  up  high  on  the 
right  and  gleaming  white  in  the  sun,  humble  and 
dark  on  the  left  behind  the  mulberry  trees;  and 
then  above  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  the  grassy  slopes 
and  fir-trees  of  Villa  Carre  and  Passo  Grande. 

"  Daniele,  Daniele !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  broken 
voice,  "  let  us  go  now !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  WINTER  AND  IN  SUMMER 

The  next  morning  it  was  raining  when  Elena 
went  down  into  the  hall  at  half  past  six.  The 
coachman,  who  had  received  orders  to  bring  round 
the  carriage  at  half-past  seven,  came  out  of  the 
kitchen  just  as  Elena  was  going  onto  the  verandah. 
He  asked  her  whether  she  would  start  at  the  hour 
named,  if  it  were  still  raining.  Elena  nodded,  and 
he  went  away.  At  the  same  moment  a  servant 
came  to  inquire  of  the  "  little  countess  "  whether  he 
should  take  the  senator's  coffee  to  him  or  not. 
Would  they  start  if  it  rained?  Elena  stared  at 
him.  For  the  moment  she  had  forgotten  that  the 
senator  was  to  go  with  her.  Yes,  she  would  cer- 
tainly start.  Perhaps  a  little  later?  No,  because 
Clenizzi  had  to  catch  the  eleven  o'clock  express  for 
Milan. 

"  The  rain  will  certainly  not  last  long,"  said 
the  servant  after  studying  the  weather. 

Just  then  the  sun  came  out.  Romano  and  Passo 
Grande  were  quite  black  under  the  weighty  pile  of 
clouds;  and  Villascura  and  the  meadows  were 
touched  by  the  sun.  The  rain  looked  like  glitter- 
ing dust.  The  porch  formed  a  sort  of  telescope, 
through  which  the  sky  beyond  the  fir-trees  showed  a 

463 


464  THE  POLITICIAN 

pale  greenish  hue,  which  changed  to  turquoise  over 
the  plain. 

Elena  went  out  without  any  umbrella,  and  walked 
up  to  the  old  fir-tree  with  drooping  branches,  which 
has  now  disappeared,  yielding  to  a  storm  after  cen- 
turies of  resistance,  as  if  to  verify  the  sad  dream  of 
its  young  mistress  whom  it  never  saw  again.  Elena 
laid  her  hand  for  a  moment  on  its  huge,  faithful 
trunk,  and  turned  away.  The  silvery  cloud  had 
broken  here  and  there  over  Corno  Ducale,  show- 
ing in  the  sunlight  the  greenish  rock  which  looked 
as  though  it  hung  in  mid-air.  Was  it  an  omen? 
A  nightingale  was  singing  in  the  fields.  "  Yes, 
yes,  yes,"  it  seemed  to  say,  but  Elena  would  not 
believe  it,  and  with  a  sigh  continued  her  farewell 
visits.  She  went  into  the  little  sitting-room,  and, 
tired  out,  seated  herself  on  the  sofa,  watching  the 
bunches  of  roses,  'the  tendrils  of  the  vines,  the  mag- 
nolias, and  the  grass  in  the  meadow  swaying  in 
the  wind.  The  red  and  white  draperies  fluttered 
and  so  did  the  curtains,  while  the  windows  shook 
with  a  slight,  continuous  rattle.  The  volume  of 
Chateaubriand  lay  open  on  the  table.  The  faded 
flowers  were  still  there.  Elena  took  up  the  book, 
and  once  more  read  the  words,  "  jamais  ternie." 
Good  God !  she  felt  that  she  could  die.  She  closed 
the  book  hastily  and  laid  it  down;  then  she  took  it 
up  again,  meaning  to  carry  it  away  with  her.  Be- 
fore leaving  the  room,  she  opened  the  drawer  of  the 
table,  and  gazed  vacantly  at  the  words  and  dates 
written  there.     The  last  was  "  June  29th,  1881  ?  " 


THE  POLITICIAN  465 

She  hesitated  a  little,  then,  taking  a  pen,  she  wrote 
in  a  hand  that  trembled  like  a  leaf,  "April  i8th, 
1882?"  The  words  and  figures  looked  as  though 
they  had  been  written  by  a  child. 

When  she  came  out  again,  she  found  the  rain 
nearly  over.  Through  the  clouds  over  Passo 
Grande  a  patch  of  pale  blue  sky,  looking  like  smoke, 
was  visible.  Cortis's  window  was  open,  but  Elena 
knew  that  he  had  started  at  dawn  for  Villascura. 

It  had  been  settled  between  them  that  he  should 
do  so.  She  feared  to  betray  herself,  to  break  down 
if  Cortis  was  present  at  her  departure,  or  even  if 
she  saw  him  shortly  before  she  started.  She  knew 
that  he  would  come  and  greet  her  at  turning,  where 
the  road  that  she  followed  was  joined  by  one  lead- 
ing straight  frorh  Villascura. 

Countess  Tarquinia,  in  a  dressing-gown,  was  at 
her  window.  She  called  Elena,  giving  her  a 
string  of  commissions  to  do  in  town,  and  begging 
her  not  to  be  late  for  dinner  the  next  day.  Noth- 
ing irritated  her  uncle  more  than  that !  Elena  made 
no  answer,  and  went  up  to  her  own  room.  On  the 
verandah  she  met  Pitantoi. 

"  If  it  is  true,"  said  he,  "  that  they  are  going  to 
send  all  the  present  deputies  to  the  right-about,  and 
give  us  fishermen  votes,  we  will  vote  for  Signor 
Daniele." 

Elena  answered  "  Bravo !  "  in  a  low  voice,  and 
offered  him  her  hand. 

"  Gesummaria,  little  countess!"  ejaculated  Pi- 
tantoi, surprised  and  confused.     "  Well,  well !  "  he 


466  THE  POLITICIAN 

added,  as  she  insisted,  "  we  will  do  this  too !  "  and 
he  scarcely  touched  the  little  hand  that  squeezed 
his  in  gratitude. 

As  she  passed  the  door  of  her  uncle's  room 
Elena  blew  a  kiss  to  it.  Lao  had  protested,  the 
evening  before,  at  such  an  early  start.  He  was  not 
going  to  get  up  at  that  hour  either  for  God  or 
man !  Elena  felt  glad  now,  that  she  would  not  see 
him.  She  placed  the  volume  of  Chateaubriand  in 
her  travelling-bag,  with  a  branch  from  a  rose  tree, 
with  its  buds,  leaves  and  thorns.  She  knelt  for  a 
moment  by  her  window,  and  then  went  to  find  her 
mother  and  Clenizzi  exchanging  their  last  fare- 
wells. Bags,  umbrellas,  and  cloaks  were  piled  upon 
the  wicker  table  near  them. 

"  How  pale  you  are,  Elena !  "  said  the  countess. 
Senator  Clenizzi  thought  her  looking  pale  too;  but 
more  beautiful  in  consequence,  if  that  were  possible. 
The  countess  w^as  furious  with  Cortis,  who  was 
out,  nobody  knew  where.  What  an  extraordinary 
creature  he  was,  to  be  sure!  The  senator  made 
excuses  for  him ;  Elena  said  nothing.  The  countess 
went  into  the  drawing-room,  beckoning  her  to  fol- 
low. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  she  said  kindly.  "  Bet- 
tina  tells  me  she  is  sure  something  is  wrong." 

"  No,  no,  nothing,"  answered  Elena,  and,  run- 
ning away  from  her,  she  returned  to  the  verandah, 
and  asked  if  the  carriage  ought  not  to  have  come. 

It  still  lacked  ten  minutes  of  half  past  seven. 


THE  POLITICIAN  467 

"  By-the-bye,"  exclaimed  Countess  Tarquinia,  "  1 
noticed  that  you  were  taking  a  trunk  with  you." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Elena ;  "  I  am  taking  a 
good  many  things  into  town  that  I  don't  want 
here." 

Five  minutes  later  the  carriage  creaked  over  the 
gravel,  and  thundered  into  the  porch.  It  was 
closed,  because  it  was  still  drizzling. 

"  Well,  dear  countess  — "  began  the  senator. 

Elena  feared  for  her  self-control;  she  got  hastily 
into  the  carriage  without  a  word  to  her  mother, 
and  shrunk  back  in  a  corner. 

"  The  baroness  is  in  a  hurry,"  said  the  senator,  as 
he  followed  her. 

"God  help  me!"  thought  Elena. 

Countess  Tarquinia  stood  by  the  carriage  door 
chattering  until  Clenizzi  returned. 

"  Here  I  am !  "  he  said,  hurrying  along.  "  The 
count  wished  me  to  tell  Donna  Elena  that  he  is 
angry  with  her  for  starting  to-day,  and  so  early. 
And  he  also  said  if  she  did  not  come  back  for  din- 
ner to-morrow,  he  would  not  care." 

"  How  is  he?  "  asked  the  countess. 

"  He  says  he  is  very  bad ;  but  I  think  he  looks 
better  than  he  did  yesterday." 

During  this  conversation  the  senator  had  been 
settling  himself  beside  Elena,  bags,  umbrellas,  and 
rugs  were  already  put  in. 

"  Countess,"  said  Clenizzi,  "  will  you  say  good- 
bve  to  Don  Bartolo  for  me?  " 


468  THE  POLITICIAN 

"  Should  he  seek  to  discover 
Where  now  is  his  friend, 
His   unhappy  lover, 

tell  him  he  is  gone !  " 

"Dead!"  corrected  the  countess  thoughtlessly. 
"  Drive  on !  " 

They  are  one  and  the  same  thing,  countess,  when 
one  is  leaving  your  house !  "  returned  the  senator, 
leaning  out  of  the  window  as  the  carriage  started. 

Neither  of  them  had  remarked  Elena's  pallor,  or 
the  misery  depicted  on  her  face.  God  was  helping 
her,   indeed ! 

She  closed  her  eyes  unconsciously.  Clenizzi  im- 
mediately began  to  talk  of  the  delightful  visit  he  had 
had,  of  the  beautiful  things  he  had  seen,  of  the 
kindness  shown  him. 

"  Do  you  not  feel  well  ? "  he  asked  suddenly. 
"  Does  your  head  ache  ?  " 

Elena  opened  her  eyes,  and  said  wearily, — 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  head  aches." 

Clenizzi  wanted  to  tell  the  coachman  to  turn  back, 
but  she  stopped  him,  seizing  his  arm,  and  saying — 

"No!  pray  don't!" 

She  closed  her  eyes  again,  wishing  to  think  of 
Cortis  in  silence.  In  a  few  minutes  she  would  bid 
him  a  last  farewell.  How  fast  the  horses  were  go- 
ing! She  opened  her  eyes  again.  God,  how  fast! 
She  wished  that  that  mile  of  road  might  be  as  long 
as  eternity. 

At  the  foot  of  a  hill  the  coachman  let  his  horses 
walk.     Presently  he  turned  round,  and  said, — 


THE  POLITICIAN  469 

"  Here  is  Signer  Daniele,"  at  the  same  time  stop- 
ping the  horses. 

"  There  he  is !  "  exclaimed  the  senator.  "  I  am 
glad  of  the  opportunity  of  saying  good-bye  to  him." 

Cortis  came  round  to  the  right-hand  window. 
He  looked  pale  and  weary.  Neither  he  nor  Elena 
spoke  a  syllable. 

"  My  dear  Cortis,"  said  the  senator,  and  he 
stretched  out  his  hand.  Cortis  shook  it  without 
speaking. 

"  Are  you  coming  into  town  too  ?  "  continued  the 
senator.  "  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  thinking  of 
it.     Come  along!" 

Elena  made  him  an  imperceptible  sign  that  he 
should  refuse.  That  would  be  too  great  a  trial  and 
they  had  decided  the  previous  evening,  not  to  at- 
tempt it.  It  w^ould  be  much  easier  to  part  now, 
never  to  meet  again,  without  even  the  final  good- 
bye! 

Clenezzi  thought  Cortis  was  hesitating. 

"Come  along!"  he  repeated. 

"  I  cannot,"  answered  Cortis. 

Elena  opened  her  bag  and  taking  out  the  Cha- 
teaubriand, showed  it  to  Cortis.  As  she  replaced 
it  she  took  from  it  a  letter,  which  she  handed  to 
him. 

"  For  you,"  she  said. 

Cortis  took  the  letter  and  her  hand  in  both  his 
own,  and  made  a  sign  that  he  had  something  to 
whisper  to  her.  He  murmured  "  good-bye  "  into 
her  ear,  and  managed  to  give  her  a  light  kiss  which 


470  THE  POLITICIAN 

she  received  with  closed  eyes  and  lips  that  struggled 
for  breath. 

Cortis  stepped  back  suddenly,  and  waved  his 
hand.  The  horses  started.  At  the  same  moment 
she  put  her  head  out  of  the  window.  Cortis  hur- 
ried forward,  thinking  she  meant  to  throw  herself 
out,  but  her  face  was  gone,  and  he  could  see  noth- 
ing but  her  little  bare  hand  hanging  limply  out  of 
the  window  as  though  it  were  dead. 

The  carriage  had  been  out  of  sight  for  some  time, 
yet  he  was  still  looking  after  it. 

He  walked  homewards  so  tired  out,  that  he  was 
unconscious  of  everything  save  of  the  dull  pain  at 
his  heart.  He  did  not  enter  the  house,  but  fol- 
lowed the  path  that  winds  up  to  the  top  of  the  gar- 
dens. Leaping  the  hedge  near  the  great  lime  tree, 
he  went  on  towards  the  column  and  there,  among 
the  chestnuts  which  keep  watch  over  the  valley,  he 
threw  himself  down  on  the  grass,  still  wet  with 
rain. 

It  was  all  over  now ;  he  was  alone. 

What  had  he  done!  The  sun  was  darkened,  the 
world  dead,  his  heart  frozen.  He  called :  Elena ! 
Elena !  Plants  and  leaves  maintained  their  mourn-, 
ful  silence.  He  lay  there  motionless,  without 
thought,  watching  the  white  clouds  floating  above 
him,  their  shapes  constantly  changing,  as  though 
they  were  goirerned  by  some  invisible  spirit. 

He  never  knew  how  much  time  elapsed  before 
he  sat  up  at  last.  He  was  in  pain,  bodily  and 
mental.     That   letter,    that    last   treasure    that    re- 


THE  POLITICIAN  471 

mained  to  him  from  Elena,  should  he  read  it  at 
once.  He  had  intended  to  keep  it  for  the  evening, 
for  a  still  more  disconsolate  hour. 

He  looked  at  it.  It  had  been  in  her  hands. 
Henceforward  it  was  sacred.  He  placed  it  to  his 
lips  and  gazed  at  it  again,  kissing  it,  and,  as  he  did 
so,  he  sent  his  mind  and  soul  away  over  the  mead- 
ows and  valleys  after  her.  Then  he  opened  the 
envelope  and  found  only  these  words : — 

"  In  winter  and  in  surnmer,  from  near  and  from 
far,  as  long  as  I  live  and  beyond  that  again. — April 
i8th,  1882." 

Cortis  gazed  at  the  solemn  words  as  though 
turned  to  stone.  His  breast  heaved,  his  breathing 
became  difficult,  and  a  tempest  of  grief  burst  from 
him.  He  bit  his  lips  and  beat  his  brow;  the  tears 
raining  from  his  eyes  on  the  sheet  of  paper  lying  on 
his  knees. 

When  the  paroxysm  passed,  he  felt  relieved.  A 
voice  whispered  to  him :  "  What  if  she  returned 
some  day,  even  after  long  years  ?  "  He  pictured 
to  himself  her  dear  face  spoiled  by  time  and  sorrow, 
perhaps  beautiful  only  to  him,  but  sweeter  than  in 
her  youth;  he  pictured  to  himself  her  hand  still 
youthful  and  graceful,  her  voice  still  sweet,  her  eyes, 
tirfed  yet  restful,  which  still  repeated,  timidly.  "  As 
long  as  I  live,  and  beyond  that  again." 

And  what  if  something  should  even  now  happen 
to  prevent  her  departure ! 

He  drove  away  this  thought.  The  sacrifice  had 
been  freely  made,  for  a  good  purpose ;  and  he  had 


472  THE  POLITICIAN 

given  way  enough  to  weak  nature.  He  would  do 
so  no  more.  He  rose  with  determination,  and  as 
he  walked  on  he  thought  of  Rome,  of  his  newspaper, 
and  the  incessant  work  which  he  felt  it  required. 

As  he  walked  down  among  the  firs  and  the  pine 
trees,  a  vision  of  his  future  rose  before  him.  A 
vission  of  battles  with  pen,  with  tongue,  in  the  press, 
in  the  Chamber,  at  meetings  for  the  sake  of  his 
ideas  about  government,  against  no  matter  what 
public  indifference.  He  foresaw  his  first  victories; 
the  falling  away  of  his  friends,  the  sarcasms  of  so- 
called  liberals,  the  abuse  of  so-called  Catholics.  But 
he  also  foresaw  his  own  indomitable  perseverance, 
and  the  help  of  God  in  his  labours ;  after  the  times 
of  terrible  crisis,  the  day  of  anguish,  full  of  un- 
expected difficulties  would  come  fortune  with  her 
days  of  power  pointing  the  great  road  to  social  re- 
generation in  a  Christian  and  democratic  sense,  and 
on  this  road,  the  goal  of  all  his  struggles,  Italy ! 

God  required  him  wholly  for  this  work.  God 
had  taken  from  him  family,  love,  youth,  and  called 
him  with  fiery  breath  to  do  His  will. 

Before  entering  the  house  he  went  to  free  Saturn, 
who  for  months  past  had  been  chained  up.  The 
huge  dog  rushed  wildly  over  the  meadow,  and 
dashed  into  the  hall  bounding  upon  his  master,  who, 
seizing  him  by  the  forepaws,  raised  him  up,  and 
gazed  into  his  shining  eyes. 

"  Saturn !  "  he  said,  "  poor  Saturn !  " 

She  had  been  fond  of  Saturn. 

Cortis  let  him  fall  again  on  all  fours,  and  went 


THE  POLITICIAN  473 

into  his  study,  where  the  dog  followed  him,  watch- 
ing him  narrowdy,  and  wagging  his  tail  violently 
every  time  his  eyes  met  those  of  his  master.  Cortis 
was  writing  this  telegram : — 

"  To  Senator  P.,  Rome, 

"  I  leave  at  once  to  put  myself  wholly  at  orders 
of  our  friends.  Cortis." 

He  rang  the  bell. 

"  Send  this  immediately,"  he  said  to  the  servant; 
"  then  go  to  Villa  Carre  and  get  my  things ;  let  the 
coachman  be  here  at  two  to  drive  me  into  town. 
Saturn  will  come  with  me." 

"  As  far  as  the  town,  sir?  " 

"  As  far  as  Rome.  If  they  ask  any  questions  at 
Villa  Carre,  say  I  am  coming  there  directly." 

The  servant  bowed  and  left  the  room. 

When  Cortis  found  himself  alone,  he  rose  to  his 
feet.  Folding  his  arms,  he  looked  fixedly  into  the 
eyes  of  his  father's  portrait,  and  said  aloud : — 

"There!' 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


APR     5     1S48 


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